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Laura Jean Libbey 

% 









THE CLUTCH OF 
THE MARRIAGE TIE 

—OR— 

JILBETT 

A STORY OF THE SECOND GLASS 

—by- 

LAVRA JEAN LIBBEY 


A NOVEL 
IN SEVEN PARTS 


COPYRIGHT, 1920, by LAURA JEAN LIBBEY STILWELL 



FILM, DRAMATIC AND ALL OTHER RIGHTS RESERVED 

©CI.A565616 ^ 

-Vvo v 

APR ?l 1920 J 


THE CLUTCH OF 
THE MARRIAGE TIE 


PART I. 

A Mysterious Stranger Visits A Great Jewelry Firm — And The 
Thrilling Event, — Ending at The Other Side of 
The World, — That Came of It. 

“I hold that no normal man who has reached the age of thirty, has 
escaped a heart entanglement of some kind,” said the manager of the 
jewelry house of Liffany, Fifth Avenue, New York, addressing a sales- 
man as he started for the door to close up for the day. 

‘‘My theory is,” he continued, — 

The sentence was never finished; — the key was not turned. 

At that moment, a taxi came to a sudden stop before the door; — a 
slender, well-built young man jumped out, cleared the pavement in three 
paces, rushed precipitately into the store. 

The salesmen behind the counters, who had just begun their tasks of 
denuding the show-cases of their glittering wealth, paused, eyeing the 
stranger attentively. 

“I’m not here to buy,” halting suddenly, his quick glance taking in 
the attitude of the clerks, — “The manager, please.” 

Mr. Hale stepped forward. At the first instantaneous glance he 
noted the man was well garbed; — and that his right hand, which was 
ungloved, bore a very small scar upon the little finger; otherwise, it was 
white and shapely. 

The stranger’s glance, from beneath a motor cap pulled well down 
over his forehead, was equally as keen, tho his black eyes were restless. 

“I should like a few words with you, Mr. Manager, I will not detain 
you very long.” 

Manager Hale hesitated; — It was late to comply, yet he did not know 
how to refuse such a request. Turning to the right, he motioned the 
young man to enter a railed enclosure devoid of furnishings except two 
unusually heavy, and cumbersome arm-chairs, and a small round rug 
placed diagonally across the highly polished floor. He indicated the 
nearest seat, which the stranger took. Hale seated himself in the other 
one which he invariably occupied, — his foot covering a small brass pro- 


5 


jection underneath the rug which some critical experiences had taught 
him to use. 

Three belated purchasers passed hurriedly by on their way out, paus- 
ing at the door. Judging from their conversation, they were intent upon 
locating their autombbile, which should have been close at hand, but was 
nowhere in sight. 

Hale noticed that the stranger gave each, in turn, a rapid glance. 

Leaning forward slightly, he said: — “Your business, sir. I have an 

engagement, and must ask you to be brief.” 

In this short space of time each salesman had cleared his cases. The 
ponderous doors of immense safes proclaiming to the ears of the manager, 
the precious stock was out of harm’s way. He wished the clerks were 
not in such a hurry to leave. The three men were still waiting im- 
patiently at the door. 

By way of answer, the stranger sitting opposite Hale, deftly reached 
for his right hip pocket; at which, the manager grasped the arms of his 
chair in a tight grip, digging his heel vigorously into the rug. 

Instantly, every employee in the establishment knew their manager was 
warning them he was in danger ; — that a second alarm would mean a call 
for assistance. 

The danger-signal reached the three men at the door; — in a trice they 
wheeled about, leaped the low railing, surrounding the stranger, one of 
them grasping his arm in a vise-like grip. 

“Easy now, gentlemen!” laughed the young man rather cynically, “I’m 
right sorry to spoil a possible sensational write-up for the newspapers; — 
I was not reaching for a gun, never use one; was reaching for my wallet 
— which has to do with my presence here.” 

It was not until the manager was assured on this point, that he gave 
the order to the three store detectives to retire to the door. 

“I suppose the hour, and my haste, did look a bit irregular,” laughed 
the young man, — “but to business.” Opening a long leather bill-book 
which was not without funds aplenty, he took from a small compartment 
a magnificent gem which Hale’s practiced eye saw was an Oriental 
pigeon’s blood ruby of some six or more carats, the cost of which 
mounted up into thousands of dollars. He handed it to Hale. 

He realized at a glance that it was the finest stone he had ever seen. 
Complete, as was the stock of this, the greatest American jewelry house, 
they had nothing to compare with it in size or beauty, nor could it be 
readily matched. Examination proved it to be flawless. 

“I intend this as a wedding gift” began the young man “the lady has 
given you jewelers an unusual task; — she wishes you to engrave upon this 
ruby, — UPON — THIS RUBY, — you understand, the one word — MIZ- 

PAH. and this, so delicately done, that it would take a microscope 

to discover it was there; — but she and I would know it. Now, sir, is 
the idea feasible? remember the lady has set her heart on this thing.” 

Manager Hale looked at the stranger aghast; Quite as soon as he 
could recover from his astonishment, he shook his head dubiously. “I 


6 


have never known of such a feat having been undertaken; — are you 
aware that there would be great risk in ruining it? — I have known of 
accidents happening to rubies, in setting them, though they are supposed 
to be quite indestructible. We could not take the risk, sir.” 

“I am quite willing to eliminate your responsibility in the matter” 
anxioused the young man. “That should satisfy you; I am sure you have 
the best craftsmen to be found.” 

“We certainly have the best,” agreed the manager, adding: — “but not 
one of them would be willing to take a chance with a ruby like this, which 
is almost priceless, so great is its value.” 

“Money would be no object,” urged the young man. 

“So I assume,” returned Hale, “There is only one man — in any 
country, — who would be likely to be persuaded into taking the work — 
and stand any chance of accomplishing it — if it is a possibility. I have 
not heard of him for years; if living, he would be very old; — there you 
are again, he would be too old to be entrusted with this, the most mag- 
nificent, as well as costly ruby that I have ever seen.” 

“Who is the man — where is he to be found,” insisted the other. 

“Daniel Bannock; — he is quite a character. In early life, he started 
out as a deep sea diver; — an encounter with a giant octopus put him out 
of the diving business. He was next heard of in Switzerland, having be- 
come an expert engraver on fine watches, as well as the most proficient 
lapidary in all Europe, in working on precious stones. His most cele- 
brated achievement was engraving the whole of the Lord’s Prayer, on 
the head of an ordinary pin — at the behest of a titled person who 
wagered a pretty penny that it could not be done.” 

“Find Bannock, and engage him to do this work; Tell him he may 
name his own price.” 

The upshot of the matter was, Manager Hale allowed himself to be 
persuaded, though against his better judgment. 

Soon after, the young man took his departure, leaving in Hale’s 
hands the Oriental ruby, worth a King’s ransom, — a thousand dollars in 
cash to locate Bannock, and a card on which was written: — 

To be called for. J. Smith. 

The manager was so flustrated by this unusual occurrence, he did not 
notice at the time, that the card bore no address. The stranger had 
vanished as mysteriously as he had come. He was certainly uneasy con- 
cerning who he was, — how he came into possession of so rare a gem, 
and his utter carelessness in leaving it unreceipted for. 

“Huh! — no one but a woman would be responsible for so mad a 
whim; — What will a man not do for a woman who has infatuated him,” 
he mused. 

It was a greaty pity to mar such a gem, still, if the owner had no 
such scruples, why should he waste a regret over it. The notions of 
their valuable customers must be catered to, no matter how extravagant, 
or fool-hardy. 

He touched an electric button on the railing impatiently. In response 
a tall, spare, middle-aged man appeared. 


7 


“Sit down, Staples; — I was worried lest you had gone; I should have 
had a lively time recalling you.” 

Staples rose to his feet in alarm. “I hope you do not mean you have 
decided not to give me my vacation at this time, sir; — that would cause 
me some inconvenience, as I have already made every arrangement to 
start tomorrow.” 

“Not so fast, Staples,” laughed Hale “my object in sending for you 
is to ask if you would mind making your pleasure trip, one of business 
for the firm, as well. There would be a mighty tidy sum in it — for you, 
— all your expenses paid.” 

“Yes Sir, certainly I — ” 

“First of all, do you know where old man Dan Bannock can be lo- 
cated?” 

“I was talking with a sea-faring man, only yesterday who knows him 
well, declaring he’s as chipper as a man half his age. He was sent by 
some government to Katar, that’s on the Arabian coast, I believe; he has 
remained there ever since, — as an appraiser of the pearls found on the 
Katar coast. He has outlived all his family except — ” 

“I must send a man in search of Bannock, at once,” cut in Hale. 

“He is the only one I know of who is competent to execute the work 
required.” Whereupon he explained the matter in detail to Staples, 
showing him the superb jewel on which the stranger wished the word 
MIZPAH engraven. 

Like his manager, Staples fairly gasped; “Ten to one it will be split, 
fairly ruined; It would be folly, — almost criminal to attempt it.” 

“That is not our lookout. It must be accomplished, barring acci- 
dents, if it be within human power. You are the only man, Staples, whom 
I can trust to take the valuable gem, — also to see that it is safely placed 
in Bannock’s hands.” 

Staples undertook the commission, solemnly declaring he might be 
counted on to defend the treasure with his life, if need be. 

He agreed with Hale that it would be a wonderful trip for him. 

He had always had a longing to see that part of the old world the 
description of which, in histories, had so deeply interested him. It seemed 
almost like an unbelievable dream, that his hopes were to be realized. 


8 


PART II. 

A Man's Heart — and — A Woman's Love. 

Meanwhile, the taxi occupied by the stranger bowled swiftly onward. 
The city, lying behind, gradually grew into an irregular line athwart the 
sky, then disappeared altogether behind the hills of the dry country road. 

The sun had well nigh set, as it reached its destination, stopping be- 
fore an imposing entrance gate; — A broad paved walk led to a large 
white house, set some distance back in a grove of fine old trees. 

As the young man alighted from the taxi, he observed a car stand- 
ing just ahead, which he recognized. “Thorne’s here!” he muttered in 
annoyance, his brows meeting in a frown. 

At that instant he beheld a very pretty young lady in a pink and white 
mull dress, standing on the porch, and a man on the lower step who was 
lifting his hat in taking leave of her. Neither observed him. 

The man turned, advanced hastily down the walk, as the other 
opened the gate, entering. Both stopped; the hand-shake with which 
they greeted each other was more formal than cordial. 

The young lady on the porch watched them anxiously. She had not 
thought it possible that they would meet — on — this day — of all others. 

“I had not thought to find you here, Thorne,” remarked the new- 
comer, with a touch of irony in his tone. 

“Nor I you, Jay,” returned Thorne, not a little embarrassed at the 
unexpected encounter. “I was passing, and just ran in for a moment.” 

“I expect to see you later,” said Smith, touching his cap, and moving 
swiftly forward — mounted the steps with alacrity. 

With a sneer on his lips not pleasant to see, Thorne stepped into 
his car, a cloud of dust soon hiding him from view. 

Jay would have swept aside all conventions, and caught the young 
lady in his arms, but she drew back with a pretty little laugh, — shaking 
a very dainty fore-finger at him — a most charming blush of confusion 
suffusing her fair face. 

“The time, the place, — and the dear girl!” he declared, — gazing at 
her enraptured, thinking there was never a fairer picture than she made 
with the last rays of the setting sun turning her light brown hair to glint- 


9 


ing gold, — deepening the faint pink in dimpled cheek and lip, — its sparkle 
reflected in her lovely violet eyes. 

“Clairena — my — Clairena !” he exclaimed, catching both of her flut- 
tering little hands in his strong firm ones, and raising them impulsively 
to his lips, kissing them with all the gallantry of a carpet-knight of ye 
olden times, — then attempting to draw her toward him. 

“Oh, aren’t you — dreadful!” wrenching her hands free, and dodging 
the outstretched arms, so eloquent in their mute appeal; — “You know 
every window may have eyes peeping from behind lace curtains; please 
be more circumspect — ; Do sit down.” 

He laughed a hearty, good-natured laugh pleasant to hear, as he 
dropped into a willow chair close by the one she had taken, again at- 
tempting to capture the little hands lying so prettily in her lap. 

“Very well,” he said resignedly, “only a fortnight more, — then, — 
instead of being forced to content myself with kissing the fingers of my 
sweet-heart, I will be kissing the lips of — my bride, — no matter who 
looks on.” 

Such a declaration from an ardent lover usually brings a glow to the 
heart, and a flush to the cheek of most girls who reciprocated love’s 
tender emotions. Clairena Vail was an exception. 

“Do you know, it is very hard to understand you, Jay, Marmaduke — 
Smith,” she pouted. “Two hours ago I received a phone message from 
you that you could not possibly come here this afternoon. In conse- 
quence, I was thinking of going over to Piping Rock to see the races; 
Now — you — are here.” 

“Not very much of a puzzle, — easy to explain; — A man follows the 
dictates of his heart, when his longings are in the same direction; — mine 
prompted me to come; — you were the magnet; — I could not stay away. 
The few minutes with you, my dear, will be ample compensation for the 
trip. It is only the important engagement of the bachelor dinner I am 
giving tonight, which tears me away from you, now that I am here.” 

Bending nearer, he looked at the watch on her slender wrist, a small, 
dainty affair, studded with superb diamonds, his gift to her. 

“Good Heavens!” he ejaculated. “Slowly falls the foot of time that 
only treads on flowers.” He sprung to his feet, adding: — “I must be 
off at once; I came to tell you, Clairena, dear, that the ruby has been duly 
placed in the hands of the jewelers, but it may be many moons, I fear, 
ere the gem, bearing the inscription — MIZPAH — graces this lovely little 
hand.” 

“I wanted so much, to wear it at the — wedding; — but I suppose you 
did the very best that could be done, Jay.” 

“The very best, Clairena. I haven’t time to tell you the amusing 
incident that occurred, in regard to it, today, you’ll laugh over it.” 

Again he captured the little white hands, looking wistfully into her 
lovely face. He was ardent by nature, with the hot blood of youth 
bounding through his veins; — She was reserved and proud; at times, it 
seemed to him almost unbelievable, that so peerless a girl could love him 
well enough to marry him. 


10 


“If I had not found you here, I should have run over to 
Rock.” 

“Why!” she asked. 

To make sure Ed Thorne, — (and he is indeed a thorn in my peace 
of mind) — had not taken you there.” — I was a little taken back to find 
him here, sunning himself in your presence ; do you know, Clairena, l 
shouldn t wonder if he were not fooling himself with the hope that some- 
thing will happen to part us at th’ ’steenth hour, and there’d be a chance 
for him yet.” 

Clairena drew her hands from him coldly, cresting her pretty head 
proudly. 

“If you are to develop — jealousy, I tell you now, I would not stand 
for it, Marmaduke.” (She always called him by his middle name when 
she was annoyed with him) — adding: — “In a lover, it is abominable; — in 
a husband, — an insult. Marriage must broaden views of life, — not nar- 
row them down. I shall never drop any one of the friends who have 
been in the habit of calling on me, to gratify the nonsensical whim of a 
jealous husband, I assure you.” 

“Surely you would not encourage Thorne to call — after we are mar- 
ried; — you know he is infatuated with you, and his presence would be 
irksome to me.” His words died away in a husky cough. 

“Edward Thorne is a gentleman whose friendship any woman might 
be proud of,” she returned spiritedly. “He will be always welcome in a 
home of mine; please understand that.” 

“Clairena,” he said slowly, “Are you regretting that you chose me — 
instead of my college-chum — Thorne?” 

Her eyes dropped beneath the intensity of his gaze; — her face paled 
a little. With an effort she controlled the trembling of her hands which 
she now held behind her back, closely locked together, — out of his reach. 

“Jealousy — even after I, became betrothed to you, caused you to 
quarrel with him,” she went on slowly, “You had no cause.” 

He gave her a long, steady, searching gaze, thinking, it was as well, 
perhaps, that she should put that construction on the sudden break that 
had occurred between Thorne and himself. 

Smith was too honorable to disparage the man behind his back; He 
knew that Thorne would fall far short of the — gentleman she supposed 
him to be, if she knew the truth about that affair. 

Looking off abstractedly into the distance, that whole affair rose be- 
fore his mind’s eye. 

A party of young men which included Thorne and himself, — had 
gone up to Maine for a few weeks fishing. Camp-life, and roughing it, 
was the programme. Fine messes of big fish were landed, and game 
brought in, which was dispatched with gusto by the hungry crowd. 

At night, all sat around the blazing logs which each had done their 
share in gathering, — enjoying the songs, and bright repartee of their 
comrades, through the smoke of corn-cob pipes. 


11 


It was before prohibition, and a goodly supply of “Maine’s Best,” 
had been tucked in amongst the supplies. Preventative against rattle 
snake bite, etc., must be carried along. 

Most of the young men indulged very sparingly, — and then for good- 
fellow-ship only. Thorne, and a couple of his cronies, on a few occasions, 
abused their host’s hospitality — by indulging too much. 

It was on the last of these occasions, that the break occurred between 
Thorne and himself. The glass too much had always been Thorne’s 
failing; — On this particular night merriment was at its height when 
Thorne was called upon for a toast, — a good pun, — anything to add to 
the fun of the evening. 

Thorne was keyed up to the occasion, complying with alacrity. The 
topic he hit upon was: — “Beautiful women who had loved him.” He 
made no distinction among them, good, bad, or indifferent. 

Smith had heard all this so often that he was in no mood to listen; 
being rather disgusted at the ass Thorne was making of himself, and 
certainly bored. With boastful hilarity Thorne mentioned the name of 
Clairene Vail — 

He got no further. In a flash Jay was on his feet, and instantly 
flung the untouched contents of his glass full into Thorne’s face. A 
moment of great confusion followed, friends intervening to prevent a 
serious ending of the affair. 

The cold douche had sobered Thorne instantly. He was deeply in 
debt to Jay Smith for borrowed moneys, since the time they were college 
students together. He could not hope to ever be able to discharge those 
obligations; If pressed for payment, it would bankrupt him. 

All this seemingly passed instantaneously through his mind, as he 
stood facing Smith who declared he must apologize — or fight — Thorne 
swallowed his intense rage, making the amende honorable. 

The affair blew over. Jay was coaxed by mutual friends into the 
belief that Thorne was certainly very sorry, adding: — “When wine’s in, 
wit’s out,” and consented to forget the incident. Thus the matter was 
patched up. 

Thorne was subsequently invited to the bachelor dinner, and his ef- 
fusive note of acceptance, — expressing his good-will, and earnest wishes 
for their happy future, quite mollified Smith; He concluded that he had 
been a little too harsh in his judgment of his old comrade. 

Looking at her lover, Clairene was sure, and also glad that he did 
not know Edward Thorne had proposed marriage to her also, — being 
exceedingly bitter to learn that she had just accepted his chum Thorne’s 
words, at the time, still rang in her ears: — 

“You say you have accepted Jay Marmaduke Smith, — but I believe 
— and will always believe — that you love — me, — Clairene. Your father 
has put you up to this; — He could not let slip the opportunity to marry 
you to a multi-millionaire, — instead of a lawyer’s son who had his fortune 
yet to make.” 


12 


Jay started from his revery of that camp-fire affair, — surprised to 
see Clairene regarding him intently. It was well that neither had the 
key to the other’s thoughts. 

“I must go, Clairene,” said Jay, regretfully. “I shall be thinking of 
you during all tonight’s dinner, believe me.” 

‘‘It is not likely that your guests would permit you to forget me, even 
were you so inclined. All of the toasts will, naturally, include both of 
us.” 

“They cannot say too many charming things of you, Clairene,” he 
said enthusiastically, “I shall respond to them most heartily,” adding: — 
“The longer I remain, the more difficult it is to tear myself away; — You 
must command me to leave you, dear.” 

She pointed roguishly to her little jeweled watch. He rose quickly — 
bent over suddenly, snatching a kiss; — the next moment he was swinging 
down the walk. He had forgotten one of his gloves; — she hurried down 
to the gate with it, — but he was out of sight. 

She turned, and was walking slowly back to the house, when a step 
behind her fell upon her ear; — She knew that step well; an instant later 
Thorne was by her side. 

“Don’t go to the house, yet, Clairene, — I must talk with you; Sit 
down here,” indicating a garden seat just large enough for two, beneath 
a spreading oak. She seated herself with seeming reluctance; She knew 
what he wanted to say; — he had said it often enough during the last 
few weeks, — being the more persistent after her wedding announcement 
had been made. 

“I am sure you have returned to tell me how the races turned out, 
— which won, — your horse, — or — ” 

He interrupted her with a harsh laugh. “My horse, Claire, lost — 
in the race for the cup, — just as her master has lost — in the race — for 
a woman’s heart!” 

She drew back from him, his fierce mood frightened her. It was one 
thing to coquette with such a man, but quite another, and by far more 
dangerous thing, to dismiss him; He was no toy man, to be thrown aside 
at the whim of a beautiful girl. — As the date set for her wedding drew 
nearer, he grew more desperate. He had planned to go away until it 
was over; — but fate decreed otherwise; — business matters which he could 
not control, forced him to remain. 

He looked long and earnestly at the girl by his side; — How could he 
give her up; — stand quietly by, as her groom’s best man, and see her 
given in marriage — to his rival. The thought maddened him. He held 
out both of his hands to her mutely; — she pretended not to see, and they 
fell heavily to his side. 

“Aren’t you going to the bachelor-dinner?” she queried. “You will 
surely be late.” 

“It rests entirely — with — YOU! Clairene! — I am here to make one 
last plea. Forget this mad desire for wealth; — Come with me; — My car 
is at the gate; Marry me, and let the guests at the dinner be informed 
of it by telephone, Don’t sent me from you, — You will — regret it if you 


13 


do. The happiness of both your life and mine is at stake, — think, decide 
quickly.” 

Her head throbbed! — her heart beat; the power of uttering a word 
seemed to fail her; — At that moment, Colonel Vail came hurriedly down 
the walk, evidently in search of the girl. 

A muttered imprecation broke from Thorne’s lips through his tightly 
set teeth. “Answer me, yes, — or — no, Clairene,” he whispered hoarsely. 
“You have yet time to make a decision; Speak quickly, for heaven’s sake 
— I tell you I cannot lose you. It’s now — or — never!” 

Colonel Vail quickened his steps — he guessed intuitively, from the 
expression of Thorne’s face, that he was recklessly attempting to press 
his suit in defiance of existing circumstances. He knew, too, that his 
daughter was not unmindful of his fascinations, a little while before. The 
breeze had carried those words — Now-or-never — to his ears which even 
age had not robbed of their alertness. 

He stopped before them, bent down, catching the girl in his arms, — 
holding her in a close embrace, — to give her the assurance her fond old 
father was watching over, and guarding her. He noted the strangled 
throbs of her heart beating excitedly against his own. 

He greeted Thorne, who had risen quickly to his feet, in his usual 
dignified manner. It did not escape his notice that the young man re- 
turned his salute constrainedly. He readily understood Thorne was 
wishing him in hades — anywhere than where he was — interrupting his 
conversation with his daughter. 

“You will be late for the bachelor dinner, sir, I fear,” he remarked, 
looking keenly at Thorne through his double-barrelled glasses. 

“No,” replied Thorne, throwing back his dark gray duster, displaying 
his evening dress-suit, “My car is swift; I can easily make it.” 

“Good! I do not like to cut short your call, but would suggest that 
you lose no time.” 

Thorne flushed; for a moment he hesitated; The intense emotional 
strain which was consuming him, was not lost upon the colonel. 

“Would you mind if I asked for just one word — alone — with your 
daughter, sir?” asked Thorne, doing his utmost to appear as though the 
request was a trivial one; — that it might be some merry jest he would 
whisper to the girl. His hoarse voice, and manner flouted the jesting 
theory. 

“Not tonight! The dew is falling! I shall take her into the house at 
once. — Good-night !” 

Thorne heard Clairene’s murmured — “Good-night!” 

Was it only his fancy that there was a muffled sob in her voice? 
Thorne stood quite still, watching them until they had disappeared within 
the shadow of the porch; — He heard the heavy door close after them; — 
He turned away with bitter rage warring in his heart. 

As they reached the drawing-room, the colonel noted the extreme 
pallor of her face, which worried him; It was not much of a surprise to 
him when she turned abruptly, asking : — 


14 


“Father! — would it have been so very much amiss, — to have talked 
with him — a few moments — alone?” 

“Most assuredly it would, my dear” replied the colonel, stroking her 
hair with one hand, and holding her fast with the other, as though he 
feared she might break away from him and run back into the grounds — 
“There is nothing so particular that he could have to say to you that it 
will not keep until some other time.” 

The colonel did not like Thorne, for several reasons, — any one of 
which was sufficient to bar him as a prospective son-in-law, in the old 
gentleman’s opinion. 

He was worried by the expression he saw in his daughter’s face. 

“Come, come, my dear,” he said briskly, — “This will never do! To 
see you sad, will make me sad too. Won’t you play, — and sing some- 
thing for me? — I don’t know how I am ever to get along when my 
motherless little girl is gone from me; — There will be no one to sing the 
old songs I love to hear.” 

Clairene turned to the piano. 

“Let it be the harp, tonight, my dear; — I always shut my eyes and 
hark back to the old sweet days when your dear mother’s fingers touched 
its strings; — the melody is with me yet; — and those old songs, — sing 
them to me once again; — Let me be happy for one brief hour.” 

The old man’s thoughts were of the past — and the maiden’s, of the 
future. 

As Clairene crossed the room, he settled back in his chair, thinking 
he would die happy to see her future happiness assured; Jay Smith, of 
all others pleased him best. He was anxious to have the wedding day 
roll around, — and give his treasure into the keeping of so worthy a young 
man. 

Clairene played the harp as few others could, and her voice was 
clear and sweet, — as she sang all the old songs he loved best to hear, 
accompanying herself on the harp. The songs belonged to the years of 
the past, like himself. 

He beat time with his foot, as he listened to the sweet voice singing 
pathetically: — “I’ve been sitting on the stile, Mary,” — “Ben Bolt,” “Then 
you’ll remember me,” — and then, the song he loved best of all, “Lorena.” 
He did not seem to note the quiver, or the pathos in her voice, as the 
melody, and tender, despairing words floated through the room: — 

“We loved each other then, Lorena, 

More than we ever dared to tell; 

And what we might have been, Lorena, 

Had but our loving prospered well.” 

Her father usually accompanied by tapping his foot upon the floor, 
or his fingers on the arm of his chair. As neither sound fell on her ear 
she looked at him over her shoulder, discovering he was fast asleep. 

Clairene arose from the instrument wearily. A gentle breeze floated 
in through the open French window. 

Picking up a gauze scarf, she threw it about her head — passing slowly 
out upon the porch, and down into the grounds. 

15 


PART III. 


Is All Fair, in Love, — or War? 

During the ride to the club-rooms in which he was to give his bachelor 
dinner, Jay Smith had plenty of time to think. 

Other men, about to wed, whom he had known, had been jubilantly 
happy; He tried to analyze his own sensations; He certainly had every 
reason to be joyful; — His bride-to-be was all that could be desired: — 
young, beautiful, accomplished, with more than the allotted allurements 
of her sex. The future seemed promising; His sky cloudless. 

He was alone in the world, — the last of his race; His boyhood, and 
young manhood had been spent within college walls; he quite envied his 
chums who had homes, and some one in them — who loved them. 

At an early age he had come into possession of a large fortune, unlike 
many others, who found themselves suddenly possessed with the ways 
and means of satisfying their every desire, rushing through their inherit- 
ance, — he had managed his estate in such a manner as to increase, instead 
of diminishing it. 

When the war broke out, he enlisted as a private, did his bit in the 
thick of the hell of battle, was gassed, and shell-shocked, coming out of 
it with but a slight scar on the little finger of his right hand. 

Returning, he took up the thread of life again where he had dropped 
it at his country’s call. 

He had a suite of rooms in a select family hotel, which was quite 
unknown; That was why New York’s fashionable four hundred had not 
heard of him, to drag him headlong into society, and the spreadnets of 
mammas with marriageable daughters. 

Colonel Vail was brought into contact with him through a business 
transaction, and was so pleased with the well-bred, unassuming young mil- 
lionaire, that he invited him out to his home for a Sunday dinner. The 
wily old gentleman did not mention he had an unusually handsome 
daughter. Had he done so, Jay Smith would most assuredly have de- 
clined. Women had little attraction for him; for that reason he kept 
away from them; — they did not interest him. 

The colonel had been equally as clever in not mentioning to Clairene 
that an exceptionally nice young man was to dine with them. In the 


16 


course of his off-hand remarks, she was given to understand the expected 
visitor was a single man, — a dyed in the wool bachelor, — a business 
friend, otherwise of no particular importance. 

Clairene was much surprised when she met Jay Smith. The surprise 
was mutual; Never before, had he been brought into contact with so 
charming a young lady. 

He had no idea as to what she wore; he had an indistinct recollection 
of a cloud of pale pink tulle, — like the heart of a flower, — a face fair as 
a painted picture, red lips, violet eyes, and bronze-gold hair — and beau- 
tiful little hands soft and white as lily leaves, among the dainty china 
cups. He never membered what he ate, or the taste of the viands — if 
he had partaken of but a few mouthfuls, or a goodly part of the excel- 
lent dinner. Later, in the drawing-room she had played on the harp, 
and sang for him. By the time the evening was over, he knew he had at 
last met a young lady whom he longed to see again. The home picture 
captivated him — set him thinking, longing. 

It was a great surprise to him to learn that his college chum Edward 
Thorne, was a visitor there. He had never heard him mention knowing 
this attractive young girl; — evidently it was a carefully guarded secret, he 
had kept it to himself. 

Like a magnet to the pole, Smith had gone again and again. In the 
heart of a young man, love is not a plant of slow growth. With each 
visit, he became the more enamored of the colonel’s daughter. 

It ended as all wholesome romances should, the offering of his heart 
and hand to Clairene. He was so confused, on that auspicious occasion 
he never afterward really remembered whether it was Clairene, or her 
father who accepted him; It was not until he beheld his betrothal ring 
shining upon her white hand — that he was at all sure they were actually 
to marry. To him the days that followed, were the most blissful he had 
ever known. At last he was to know the real meaning of the word — 
HOME. A home of his own, and the girl he loved in it. His reveries 
stretched further on, — bringing a glow to his heart, and a smile to his 
lips. 

He felt rather sorry for Thorne; he had seemingly gotten over his 
disappointment, much more easily, and quickly than he had supposed a 
man of Thorne’s disposition could. 

He had certainly taken a sensible view of the matter, forgetting a 
woman had come between him and his old chum, Smith was sure of 
this when Thorne had consented to be best man at the wedding. 

As the taxi rolled onward, earnest were the resolutions Jay Smith 
made to make Clairene one of the happiest women the world held; He 
would cause her to be glad she had entrusted her happiness to him. He 
believed marriage would melt the coldness that was always about her like 
a mantle. 

The stopping of the taxi at his destination, brought his reveries to a 
sudden ending. 

He was well pleased with the excellent arrangements which had been 
made for the bachelor dinner. 


17 


The Prince of Wales could hardly have given a more elaborate 
spread. Looking at his watch, he saw that it wanted but a few minutes 
to eight; — his guests would soon be arriving. 

At that instant he made the discovery that covers had been laid — for 
— thirteen. 

He was by no means superstitious, — but, — what about the guests ! — 
would any of them notice, and worry over it? Ere he had time to think 
over what was best to be done, — the room began to fill up. In the hearty 
greetings, which followed, the incident slipped his mind. 

It was in no enviable mood Edward Thorne entered the banquet hall 
where the guests had already assembled to do honor to the bachelor 
dinner. A group of his Yale class-mates railed at him good-humoredly 
for keeping the affair waiting. One of them whispered in his ear: — 

“There were secret wagers laid, Ed, that you would not come.” 

“Why not!” Thorne turned upon him with such an ugly glare his 
friend drew back much embarrassed, and perturbed, answering: — 

“Oh, an old sweetheart, we understood. One doesn’t enjoy drinking 
toasts to another’s — ” 

“That will do, Ralph,” cut in Thorne savagely “some men I know of 
will get themselves into difficulty, if they attempt to meddle with my 
affairs.” This did not add to comfort, to know the friends of both Smith 
and himself, were relishing the situation immensely. 

He took his seat at the table, at Smith’s right, with a nonchalant air. 
During the merry hours that followed, he appeared to be the gayest of 
the gay. His laugh was the heartiest. A few of his friends noted, how- 
ever, that he did NOT drink to the happiness of the prospective bride, 
and groom, — He put down his wine untasted; the hand that held it shak- 
ing slightly, despite his valliant effort at self control. 

Thorne’s keen glance detected that, during the entire evening, Jay 
Smith did not indulge in even one glass of champagne, on this momentous 
occasion. He and Smith had one weakness in common — the second glass. 

The affair broke up at midnight, Thorne being among the first to 
depart. Smith was about to leave the banquet hall where he had been 
standing- alone in contemplative mood. He was thankful that no one 
had noted the number of those present, who sat around the festive board. 
He tried to forget it, and yet, he wondered if it were true “that coming 
events oft cast their shadows on before.” 

As he was about to turn away, a hand was laid on his shoulder; turn- 
ing, he found Thorne beside him. “My car is out of commission,” he 
explained; — “I came by trolley; If you don’t mind, I’ll go back with you, 
old chap.” 

“Certainly! I shall be right glad of your company,” replied Jay 
Smith heartily, slapping the other on the back. 

“While waiting here, why not have one drink for good-fellowship — 
this occasion will never present itself to us but this once.” — suggested 
Thorne. 

Jay shook his head; — “You know I do not like to refuse, especially 
on this occasion of all others, — but, — it wouldn’t be wise, Ed. I — already 
have a headache.” 


18 


Thorne grasped a decanter, and filled two glasses to the brim — de- 
claring he would not take — no — for an answer, adding: — “Do not cross 
your good luck by — refusing.” 

Smith started, looking uneasily at his companion; was he referring 
to the number about the table. If so, he had shown great tact in not 
raising a hub-bub — over it at the time. 

Thrusting the glass into Smith’s hand, he fairly forced it, with seem- 
mgly boisterous gayety, to his lips; There seemed no alternative than to 
swallow it. In the excitement of the moment, Jay did not notice Thorne 
tipped the contents of his glass, into a near-by receptacle, — the glass he 
raised to his lips was — an empty one. 

“Just one more — a last one,” urged Thorne; “Let us drink to a joy- 
ous honeymoon for you, and your dear one, — and all the happiness that 
goes with wedded bliss.” 

In the excitement of the moment, Jay eagerly caught up his glass, 
draining it at a single draught. Thorne, as before, emptying the contents 
of his glass, in the container. 

“And now one to the bride elect,” coaxed Thorne jubilantly, as he 
noted the effect of what he had already imbibed, on his companion. 

Jay could not refuse to drink to that. 

By this time, it was with difficulty^ the deliriously happy bridegroom 
to be, — could keep his feet. Arm in arm they gained the pavement; — 
Thorne was intensely gratified to learn earlier in the evening, Smith had 
brought his own car over; — There was no chauffeur to be gotten out of 
the way, on one pretext or another. 

Thorne helped Jay in, then took the place at the wheel; — Another 
moment, and he and his helpless companion were whirling away from 
the late scene of festivity, along the serpentine road whose immense old 
trees, on both sides, shut out the white moonlight — shrouding it in almost 
impenetrable darkness. 

They were on the outskirts of Mineola, and near the aviation field, 
Thorne knew; — a little distance to the right, was the home of Colonel 
Vail. 

It was Thorne’s intention to convey Smith directly to the home of 
his fiancee — showing him up in the deplorable state he was in. It would 
be a day or so ere he fully recovered, and, as Clairene saw him then, she 
would never forget — or forgive him. Both the colonel and his daughter 
abhorred liquor; — It was never upon their table. Both were intensely 
in sympathy with the prohibition bill, eager that it should pass. Thorne 
believed Ciairene’s respect for her lover would end then and there, — 
also, what affection she might have for him. And the hot headed old 
colonel! — ten to one he would order the betrothal between Jay, and his 
daughter, broken then and there. But, — “the best laid plans, of mice, 
and man, aft gangs aglee.” 

An explosion suddenly cut short his scheming. “A punctured tire! — 
Confound the luck!” he exclaimed, jumping out to look it over; The 


19 


glare of the head-lights, showed him the road was sprinkled with broken 
glass. 

He had no time to speculate over this, for, at that instant two men 
leaped from the shadows of the road-side; cold steel was pressed to his 
temple. 

An order was preemptorily given to “fork over the contents of his 
pockets, and in double quick time.” 

Thorne realized the danger, as well as uselessness of attempting an 
argument, — and complied with alacrity. “Now scoot! — we’ll attend to 
the car!” was the next order given. 

Thorne did not stand an instant upon ceremony; but, with the best 
time he ever made, sprinted down the road — not stopping until he was 
obliged to, from sheer want of breath. 

He was not so far away, but he could see, in the clear moonlight, all 
that transpired up the road: One had set to work brushing away the 
glass, while the other busied himself replacing the tire. 

Thorne acted upon the impulse to retrace his steps, under cover of 
the dense shadows, — to learn, if possible, what disposition they would 
make of Smith. At last he was within but a few feet of them, so near, 
every word of their whispered conversation fell upon his ear clear, and 
distinct. 

His hurried task with the glass completed, one of the men threw open 
the door of the car. 

“Holy Smokes!” he ejaculated, “there’s another bird inside! — He’s 
fast asleep, or pretending to be.” 

In a trice Jay was jerked to the road, and quickly deprived of the 
roll his pockets yielded. “That’s a mighty fine suit of clothes, — what’s 
the matter with exchanging it for mine, eh!” chuckled one of the men. 
This was no sooner thought of than done. 

“I believe th’ bloke’s passin’ in his checks!” remarked the taller of 
the two, with a muttered curse, “It would never do to have him found 
here; — we’ll have to take him along in th’ car to some convenient place 
far — ” 

“I’ve a better scheme,” cut in the other tersely. “There’s the aviation 
field close at hand; — what’s the matter with planting him in th’ big trans- 
Atlantic sea-plane which starts at day-break tomorrow — for foreign 
shores — it could take him along.” 

This seemed to meet with the approval of his companion. Without 
further ado, they raised the slight, slender figure, carrying him between 
them, into the field, disappearing within the hangar of the giant plane. 
A few moments later they reappeared, running with great speed to the 
car into which they sprung, and the next instant they were lost to sight by 
a bend in the road. 

Thorn stood quite still, pondering over the events which had taken 
place with such rapidity. If he raised an alarm, how could he prove — 
that a robbery had actually occurred; — He was the last person in the 
company of Smith, — If he had been tossed headlong into the plane, and 


20 


death had resulted in consequence, — there would be much unpleasant 
notoriety, and explaining to do. 

Last, but by no means least: — if Smith were shanghaied, — carried off 
ere the aviators discovered they had a passenger aboard, — he would have 
a lively time getting back in time for his wedding. This last thought 
decided Thorn on silence, — to let matters take their course. 

He waited there, screened by the trees, until day-light. He saw the 
aviators arrive on the field, accompanied by the few friends who had 
gathered at dawn to see them off. The plane had been so carefully and 
thoroughly looked over the night before, and at so late an hour, that 
Rhoades, and Casey, the expert aeronauts did not enter their plane until 
the last moment, so busy were they with hand shaking, and answering 
those who had gathered to bid them “God-speed.” 

With fascinated eyes Thorne watched the great plane emerge from 
the hangar, then a moment later mount like a thing of life, and with 
great velocity into the upper air, quickly disappearing from sight, lost in 
the blue of the cloudless sky. 

A harsh laugh fell from Thorne’s lips. He remembered reading 
the objective point of the giant sea plane was — The Barbary coast, — 
returning by way of the Azores. 

Of course Jay Smith’s disappearance would cause no end of a sensa- 
tion, — He wondered how Clairene would take it; — what she would think — 

For hours the great plane moved with velocity; — It had left the land 
far behind, now, only the blue arched sky was overhead, — and beneath 
the great stretch of water, melting into the sky-line in the distance. The 
sun, which had endeavored to show itself now and then during the day, 
disappeared sullenly behind a bank of dark clouds as the day drew to a 
close. 

“We are running into the teeth of a storm; — getting into a pocket” 
remarked Rhoades, scanning the heavens with his practiced eye. 

“No, we’re above it,” declared Casey positively, adding the next in- 
stant “Did you hear — a noise — in the bottom of the plane?” 

Rhoades shook his head, laughing amusedly. “You ought to be 
familiar, by this time with the songs the winds sing; — or, possibly, we 
may have a sea-gull for a passenger.” 

“It sounded like a — human — moan,” insisted Casey, soberly. 

The sound was repeated again; — this time so plainly Rhoades could 
not deny that he heard it; He lost no time in investigating, calling out to 
Casey: — “We’ve got a stow-away down here; — the fellow’s unconscious; 
— gravitated to the end of the plane, lying crumpled up — all in a heap. 

Casey was astounded. He knew Rhoades would bring him to in 
short order with the restoratives he carried about him. 

“He’s dying!” announced Rhoades from the cock-pit; “been drinking 
heavily — judging from his breath; — How he ever got in here, is a mys- 
tery I cannot fathom; — where was the night-watch I wonder!” 

Casey was too astounded to find words in which to answer. A dying 
man in the cock-pit! The blood in his veins seemed to turn to ice, — and 
his heart to stop beating. 


21 


“Yes, he’s assuredly dying,” announced Rhoades abruptly, “There’s 
a wound on his head; — Looks to me as if he had been pitched in head- 
foremost, landing on his head — it’s finishing him ; — As soon as the breath 
leaves the body, — out with him.” 

“Aye! Aye,” responded Casey, “It would be unlucky to carry a life- 
less passenger — on our first voyage.” 

As Rhoades had predicted, a hurricane soon swirled about them, — 
Great streaks of forked lightning tore through the angry clouds; — 
Terrific peals of thunder around and about them deafened their ears. 

Two days and two nights of heroic battling with the hurricane into 
which the plane had been plunged. A mad, roaring ocean lay beneath 
them, its giant waves leaping up at them like ferocious sharks impatiently 
awaiting their prey — above, a vast stretch of leaden sky through which 
the maddened winds tore, driving them like a storm-driven swallow with 
a velocity beyond human power to control. Only men like Rhoades and 
Casey, with nerves of steel — could have endured it. Each was wonder- 
ing silently how long he could hold out; — They were beyond endeavoring 
to cheer, or give each other encouragement; Both waited grimly — for 
the — end. A faint gray streak became perceptible in the eastern sky, 
followed by a narrow belt of crimson. Up over the purple rim of the 
dark waters rose a huge, crimson ball, flooding the sky above, and the 
seething waters beneath in a blood-red glow — and through the red light 
shafts of yellow gleamed, thousands of glittering sparks — like sun-light 
falling on the bayonets of a great advancing army. Another day had 
dawned. 

“There are few men destined to witness a sight like that — from a 
plane,” said Rhoades huskily. 

“And few men ever destined to get back to the world to describe 
it,” retorted Casey in a voice still more husky. 

Rhoades gave a side-wise, anxious glance at his companion. Since the 
moment of the discovery of the stowaway, Casey had been a changed 
man. He had been famed for his recklessness. Casey at the bat was no 
comparison to dare-devil Casey on the plane. 

He had performed stunts in the air that had made the blood of the 
onlookers fairly curdle. 

He had flirted with death so often, and in so many hairbreadth ways, 
he had been nick-named: — The man who knew no such sensation as — 
fear. Was he sensing now, — dire disaster? 

Both men noticed simultaneously — the plane was beginning to wabble 
— and knew it was engine trouble, — and what that meant. 

The unspoken thought in both men’s heart was: — How long could 
she be kept up, — or how long afloat in such a sea. A school of giant 
whales had been following them for some hours; — neither would look 
downward, but bent their strained gaze straight ahead. 

Silmultaneously, each bent forward, gasped, and shouted “Land 
Ahead, Pal!” Suddenly the plane began to descend. Both turned me- 
chanically grasping one another’s hand in a death like grip. 


22 


“It’s good-bye, Casey” muttered Rhoades, “She won’t last until we can 
land; — a few minutes more, and down she goes.” 

“Good-bye, old Pard!” answered Casey, tears that were no shame 
to his manhood gathering in his eyes, : — “Should you be saved, Rhoades, 
— go back and tell my — sweetheart, — my last thoughts were of her.” 

“Should you escape — death, — kiss my dear old mother for me! — 
God comfort her. I was all she had to love — and live for.” 

There was a faint moan from the stowaway below, another, and yet 
another, each fainter, now scarcely audible. 

“Didn’t I tell you, at the start, to throw him out!” screamed Casey 
— “he’s hoodooded us down to Davy Jones’s locker — just as I said he 
would; — With my last strength, I’ll send him down before us.” 

As he turned staggeringly about to make good his threat, Rhoades 
shouted: — “the trouble is righting itself, she’s shooting straight ahead.” 
The w r ords sounded trumpet-like through the wilderness of air, and the 
subsiding hurricane. 

The words were like a draught of strong wine to Casey’s over- 
strained nerves. 

The radiance that lit up both haggard faces was like nothing human. 
It put new life in them; — gave them false strength. They bent their 
combined efforts to hold out a little longer, and send the plane ahead. 
The great sea-plane lunged forward, then began to settle gliding down- 
ward like a swift arrow from the bow. 

The water was missed by a narrow margin, — the plane had landed on 
a glassy slope scarcely a rod from the shore. 

“Out with the body,” exclaimed Casey. “It’s by a miracle we’ve been 
saved.” 

Quickly they relieved themselves of their passenger to whom they 
attributed all their hard luck. 

Life, though but a feeble spark, — was still in him as they laid him 
down in the long grass. Their chart showed them to be far out of their 
course; — They had landed at Katar, on the Arabian coast. 

Rhoades found the engine to be not nearly as badly off as he had sup- 
posed. Both agreed that their wisest plan, on account of the dying stow- 
away, was to make a get-away from that locality, and its people without 
delay. 

They were men of deeds, not words. At the last moment Rhoad::s 
turned to the silent figure, with its death-white, upturned face, saying 
as he knelt, and placed a flask to his lips: — “I’ll give him the last of li; 
— it may give him a fighting chance to last until someone comes across 
him.” 

Casey was plainly annoyed. “He’s done for, and you’ve wasted a 
finger of perfectly good liquor,” he grumbled. 

“I’ll feel the better for doing it,” said Rhoades. 

A moment more, and the giant plane was off again in the direction 
of the rising sun. Nothing remained to show how the stranger had come 
to Katar, — lying on the opposite side of the world from all that he held 
dear. 


23 


PART IV. 


There Is A Destiny Which Shapes Our Ends, Rough Hew Them 

As We May. 

“Two shall be born the whole wide world apart, 

And speak in different tongues, and have no heed 
Each of the others being, and no thought; 

These, o’er unknown seas, to unknown lands shall cross, 

Escaping wreck, defying death; and all unconsciously 

Bend every act, that one day out of darkness they shall meet, 

And read life’s meaning in each other’s eyes.” 

The inhabitants of Katar, the most thriving place on the Arabian 
coast, were always astir fully an hour before day-break; Their work, — 
pearl-fishing, began with the first up-shoot of the morning sun which was 
signalled by the firing of guns from the sloops which were anchored a 
mile or so off shore. Pearl-fishing formed the occupation of all the in- 
habitants, both men, and women. 

Katar had a large population, — principally Arabs, though there were 
a goodly number of English-speaking people who had drifted there for 
reasons of their own; — the world forgetting, — by the world forgotten, — 
and the darker-skinned race, employed in the coffee plantations, — who 
had a settlement quite apart from the others. 

Among those who spoke the English tongue, were Daniel Bannock, 
and his grand-daughter Jil-bett, — the Mudges, man and wife, who lived 
further up the road, and last of all, those who were generally to be men- 
tioned first: — the government officials, and their families. 

Bannock had always seemed more or less of a mystery to the in- 
habitants of Katar; — he hung aloof from them; — There had been — years 
back, — a rumor that he was the youngest son of an English peer; — after 
a family disruption over his heart-affair, he had shaken the dust of Eng- 
land off his feet — forever. 

For years he was lost sight of, then he turned up at Katar — employed 
by the government as an expert upon pearls. 

He had been an expert diver, but an encounter with a giant octopus 
had closed that occupation for him. One day he announced that his son 


24 


and wife, with their infant child, were to join him in Katar. The son 
and wife were lost in a simoon on the desert; — the little-one had a mirac- 
ulous escape, and was brought by travelers to her grandfather’s arms, 
and heart. Time sped swiftly by; — The child had developed into a most 
beauteous maiden of seventeen; — the beauty, and pride of Katar. Like 
the rest of the inhabitants, she became a pearl-diver — taking to it like a 
duck takes to water. 

It had taken much coaxing to gain her grandfather’s consent; though 
the danger, at present, was not nearly so great as it had been in his 
time. — In those days, divers went down with but a girdle about their 
loins;- — since then, the government had taken possession of the pearl- 
fisheries, — and the divers were required to use diver’s dress — which in- 
sured for them a longer time on the ocean’s bed, and was infinitely safer. 
The divers were taken out to the beds in the government boats, lowered 
to their work at the signal of the rising sun. The men on watch on the 
decks, hoisting them, with their basket-load, at given intervals of so many 
minutes duration; or, before, if signalled from below. 

But few of the divers made more than enough to hold body and soul 
together, owing to the exactness of the officials. For each thousand 
oysters turned in, the diver received, for his, or her pay, one-fourth of 
the oysters he had brought up. If a pearl happened to be found among 
his pile, it was immediately confiscated. The diver disposed of his, or 
her oysters to the dealers who bargained for them, for a mere pittance. 
Thus the owners of the pearl-fisheries grew richer, accumulating fabulous 
wealth, while the divers grew older, weaker, and poorer, — living but a 
short life, at best. 

It soon became apparent to the officials that Jil-bett had the luck, or 
knack of picking the oysters which contained the largest, and most valu- 
able pearls, which caused her services to be highly appreciated. They 
found, however, Jil-bett Bannock was no ordinary diving maid to deal 
wdth. She openly defied them to take from her the pearls found in her 
share of the oysters. They patched up their differencs with her by prom- 
ising her, at last, — a satisfactory settlement when the season was over. 
This she found to be a few pearls of inferior quality, which she was 
obliged to sell for a mere trifle. By this time, her grandfather could not 
be depended upon for support. A younger man had usurped his position 
as a pearl expert. Jil-bett found the entire burden of support falling 
slowly, but surely upon her shoulders. 

Jil-bett would not have had so hard a life, if it had not been for the 
Arab, Ben-Ali, whom the government officials had put in charge of the 
divers, — hiring, and discharging them as he saw fit. 

He was the crudest of task-masters. Woe to the unfortunate diver 
who demurred from paying him the heavy toll he secretly exacted of 
them, to keep their job. 

Ben-Ali was the most feared person on the coast of Katar. Those 
who had altercations with him, were invariably reported as among the 
missing when the gangs reported for work. No one knew, or dared 
inquire into what had become of them. If Ben-Ali knew, none were the 


25 


wiser for it. The young women of Katar were in dread of him; — but 
even he, with all his power, found the wooing of a maiden a very hazard- 
ous undertaking, owing to the very strict custom of Arabia, in this respect. 
The honor of its maidens, being a well known slogan; — and was zealously 
adhered to. 

The Arabians who were adroit, commenced with the men-folks of the 
coveted maiden, — bending these relatives to their service by fair means 
— or foul, — to work upon the maiden’s obedience. 

Ben-Ali had watched the budding beauty of Jil-bett with eager eyes, 
determining, she should be his bride. 

Daniel Bannock made vigorous objection. He knew well the dispo- 
sition, as well as the character — and reputation of the crafty Arab — the 
desperado of Katar. He had been accused of smuggling opium into the 
country, — the charge was not proven, however; — The man who had 
brought it to the attention of the authorities, was among the missing, 
when the day of trial came. 

Jil-bett spurned the advances of Ben-Ali; This did not discourage 
him in the least; after the manner of his race, he applied himself the 
more assidulously to controlling the will of the stubborn old grandfather. 
Stimulants, as well as the product of the poppy were strictly taboo in 
Katar, but gradually it became apparent Daniel Bannock was being kept 
surreptitiously supplied with the latter. His ghastly face, and the trem- 
bling of his hands which had once won world wide fame for him for 
being so steady, and so true, — told their own story mutely, but piteously. 

The company no longer brought gems for him to cut, or polish. Jil- 
bett was the very last person to discover the cause of her old grand- 
father’s condition. 

All of her pleadings with the old man not to let Ben-Ali come to their 
home — was quite useless; He would promise faithfully, only to break his 
word over and over again. The Arab always paid his visit when he 
knew Jil-bett was at work in the ocean’s depth, — and so over-powering 
had become his influence, he had gained from Bannock the promise Jil- 
bett should wed him, ere the fruit of the date-tree ripened, and was 
gathered again. 

Jil-bett’s grief, her pleadings, aye! — her prayers were of no avail; — 
It dawned upon the girl’s mind quite suddenly, — the way, and means the 
Arab had employed to cause her grandfather to become so subservient 
to his will. Bannock vowed to her she should wed Ben-Ali. Jil-bett 
vowed just as solemnly that she would not. 

“He has worked a terrible evil upon you, grandfather,” she would 
sob bitterly, as she twined her arms about his neck. “It is not too late 
to quit; take no more of those dreadful powders that make you turn from 
me — Jil-bett, who loves you so dearly — and become a raging creature 
whose only solace is — Ben-Ali’s — poppy-powder, dear.” 

All her prayers and pleadings fell upon deaf ears. 

“You must overcome your dislike for Ben-Ali, especially as you are 
to marry him — so — soon” he would mutter incoherently. 


26 


Jil-bett’s arms would fall from about him. “Know this, grandfather 1” 
she would answer vehemently: — “I will never marry the Arab! You 
could choke out what life there is in me, but with my last breath I would 
still refuse to wed a person whom I so abhor. No power on earth can 
force me to do so.” 

“We shall see — when the time comes!” screamed the old man — shak- 
ing a trembling finger at her. 

It was on a morning after just such a scene, Jil-bett set out at early 
dawn, to her work. It was fully an hour too early, but she felt heart- 
sick, and desolate, — She wanted to sit down by the water’s edge — and 
think; — map out some means of escape from the net that was being 
drawn about her. She knew it was the custom for marriage to take place 
with the first blossoming of the date-trees; she could see by the tender 
green shoots that were peeping forth from the bark, it would not be long 
until that time. 

What could she do ! — how avert it, when the only human being whose 
command she was in duty-bound to obey, was arraigned against her. 

Suddenly in turning an abrupt curve in the path, Jil-bett came upon the 
figure of a man, lying unconscious, with upturned face in the long grass. 
She saw at a glance that he was not one of the divers ; — he was a stranger 
in Katar. She knelt down and touched him; his hand was cold — but his 
pulse was beating faintly; — no, he was not yet dead — but its pallor was 
creeping slowly over him. 

Her shrill cries brought assistance quickly. An official, who was go- 
ing down to the boats, — and with him the doctor who attended the divers 
who might be in need of his services. 

“Not dead — but mighty near it,” announced the doctor after a hasty 
examination. “He’ll have a fighting chance for his life if we can get him 
to the hospital quickly.” 

The government operated a hospital for the benefit of the divers, 
fortunately, it was close at hand; — To this the unknown stranger was 
hurriedly conveyed. Every tramp vessel put off men searching for pearl- 
diving work, therefore, no particular attention was paid to the advent 
of the ragged stranger. 

It had not escaped the observation of the doctor, however, that his 
hands were white, and shapely; — There was nothing about him that sug- 
gested manual labor. 

Many a ticket-of-leave man, and escaped rogue in all walks of life had 
drifted to Katar; No one bothered over their pedigree; If they wanted 
work at the pearl fisheries, and qualified in the examination for it, they 
were employed; — otherwise, they were told to move on; — and that was 
the last seen or heard of them. 

The women of Katar took turns in administering to those in the hos- 
pital. Jil-bett asked permission to attend the stranger, after her work 
hours, which was readily granted. The doctor announced, “If he pulled 
through, he would owe his life to her for discovering him in the nick of 
time.” Very gently Jil-bett laved his burning brow with cooling water, 
and held cooling draughts to his parched lips. He was like no one whom 


27 


she had ever beheld before. — His hands were a marvel to her, as was 
the thick, clustering chestnut hair that was brushed back from his white 
forehead. Jil-bett spent every moment of her spare time at his bedside. 
She was greatly distressed when the doctor decided he was probably suf- 
fering from shell-shock; — or a blow on the head which had caused a 
complete suspension of his memory — leaving his mind — a blank. 

A great wave of happiness swept over her heart the day he opened 
his eyes and looked up wonderingly into her face, asking: — 

“Where am I — who — are — you!” 

Jil-bett explained, but he did not seem to understand. 

The doctor questioned him closely as to who he was, his name, and 
from whence he came; — It was quite useless, he could not answer; — His 
past was blotted out, as though it had never been. 

Many names were suggested to him; — was his anything like any one 
of them? He shook his head; When the name Jim was propounded, 
he raised a pair of troubled eyes to the doctor’s face. 

“J” he muttered — I have heard something like that.” 

The doctor suggested “John, James, Jerry, Judson” — every name he 
could think of, beginning with the letter J ; — “we shall have to call you 
Jack, — unless you can think of something better.” 

Thereafter he was known as — Jack. 

Ben-Ali soon learned of Jil-bett’s faithful attendance upon the good- 
looking stranger, — and warned her grandfather her visits to the hospital 
must cease — at once — or he would make trouble. His power over the 
failing old man was growing more noticeable — each day — Jil-bett was 
intensely alarmed over it; — How was it to end? 

The next clash between them came when she was told she could nurse 
the sick stranger no longer. 

Jil-bett attempted to reason with her grandfather, — to show him the 
human kindness of her ministration to one so helpless. 

Bannock shook his head. “The stranger is not ill-favored; Ben-Ali 
thinks you are not without interest in him — and that must not be.” 

“How dare the Arab censor my actions, and interpret my feelings” 
cried Jil-bett hotly. 

“For this reason,” continued the old man, “he has concluded your 
marriage must be hastened.” 

Jil-bett’s face whitened; her large dark eyes dilated; she turned a 
steady gaze upon him; — There was a look on her face that he had never 
seen there before. Her bosom heaved convulsively; her lips twitched — 
no sound came from them for several moments, — then her anger broke 
forth in scathing words: — 

“If you were but yourself, grandfather, you would never consent to 
such a sacrifice of your own flesh and blood. It is the horrible dope the 
Arab is keeping you stupefied with, that is blinding you to reason, and 
my prayers.” 

The old man shook his cane at her menacingly, but, urged on by the 
fury within her, she went on, with increasing anger: — 


28 


“But I shall stop it; — He shall give you no more dope; I will appeal 
to the highest authorities against you — and — him. I will stop it tho’ it 
costs the Arab — prison — for his secret traffic in it.” 

She stopped from sheer want of breath, her emotion was so intense. 

In an instant Bannock was at her side, — his talon-like fingers clutch- 
ing her throat, swaying her violently to and fro. 

“Stop it, would you !” he screamed, quivering with a wrath as fearful 
as her own, and by far more dangerous. “I’d go mad without it ! Do you 
hear, girl, I’d go stark mad for the want of it; — I’m at that pass — and 
you would be sorry — for what my frenzy might make me do — You’d 
stop me getting what has become the very breath of life to me! — No! 
No !” 

His grasp relaxed from sheer weaknes, he staggered backward, drop- 
ping on a seat by the table, his head falling on his outstretched arms, his 
whole body quivering like an aspen-leaf. 

Jil-bett went to him, laying her strong, firm young hand on his bowed, 
white, disheveled head. “Let me save you from the dope, and Ben-Ali’s 
influence, grandfather,” she pleaded, dropping on her knees at his side. 
Let us go away from here — anywhere — There are pearl-fisheries in many 
other places, — and there is no better, no more daring diver than your 
own Jil-bett.” 

The old man shook his head frantically. “No, no! it’s too late 
now! — ” The girl rose slowly from her knees, gazing at him in terror; — 
she had not thought it had so terrible a hold on him as this. 

“Mind, I command you — to go no more to the hospital to see that 
stranger,” he reiterated, “You will make Ben-Ali his enemy if you do.” 

Jil-bett turned, walking slowly to the curtained recess which shut off 
her couch from his gaze. He heard the sound of her violent weeping; 
— then he knew Ben-Ali was right, — her heart had gone out to the 
stranger whose life she had been the means of saving. 

It lacked but two days of a fortnight since the morning he had been 
taken to the hospital. As the day dawned on the Arabian coast, twilight 
was deepening in the city of New York, on the opposite side of the world. 
It was Clairene Vail’s wedding eve. Although her lover had not com- 
municated with her in any way, since the night of his bachelor-dinner, the 
family was not alarmed; — He had told them he would be more than 
busy, in settling his affairs to be able to get away for their honey-moon 
trip around the world, and might possibly have to be away for a week or 
more; — he had not mentioned where. 

When there was no word from him during all the hours of the wed- 
ding day, Clairene grew puzzled over such conduct, and sought her 
father, to confer with him about it. 

“Don’t worry,” reassured the colonel, patting Clairene’s bronze-gold 
curls. “He will be on hand for the wedding, trust a man as deeply in 
love as he is, for that.” 

A bevy of fluttering bride-maids came after her to dress for the cere- 
mony. Never was there a fairer, or more beauteous bride-elect than the 


29 


long pier-glass reflected, when Clairene stood before it, arrayed in her 
bridal robes. 

The church was thronged with the elect of the city. The bridal party 
stood in the vestry-room awaiting the appearance of the bride-groom to 
be. The hands of the clock pointed to five minutes before the hour set 
for the ceremony, — still he had not arrived. 

The pretty bride-maids looked askance at each other. Clairene sat 
quite still on the sofa beside the colonel, her hands tightly clasped over her 
bridal bouquet. Her cold, proud face giving no outward sign of the 
emotions surging through her bosom. 

The clock’s hands passed the given hour slowly, but surely. Five, — 
ten — fifteen minutes passed, — then another ten. 

Clairene’s eyes sought her father’s face; His face was white with 
anger; — an angry fire shone in his averted eyes. 

The pastor, in grave perplexity had been telephoning everywhere 
where there might be a possibility of locating the missing man. 

The answer was the same in each instance: — “He had not been seen, 
or heard from, since the night of his bachelor dinner.” 

Colonel Vail arose from his daughter’s side, his features set, and 
stern, — the veins on his forehead standing out like whip-cords, his eyes 
Blazing with mighty wrath, — and glanced about him. 

His daughter sat like a beautiful marble statue. Apparently incap- 
able of thought, or action. The bride-maids were huddled together in a 
frightened group; — flowers from the bouquets they carried, had fallen 
at their feet unheeded; The groomsmen stood, stern, anxious faced, some 
with their eyes glued on the clock, others watching the girl who awaited 
the bride-groom — whom they instinctively felt — would not come. 

Edward Thorne crossed over to Clairene, and caught her hand in 
his. 

“As best man, what anonuncement am I to make, through the pastor 
to the assembled guests?” he whispered, addressing the colonel. 

“Give us a few moments to think, and — decide,” sobbed Clairene. 

“He shall answer to me, for this” muttered the colonel between set 
teeth — “and — on — sight !” 

“What announcement is to be made to the waiting guests?” repeated 
Thorne, as he observed the pastor approaching them. 


30 


T 


PART V. 

Fate Weaves Her Web — Regardless of The Plans of Men. 

“No one is so accursed by fate, 

No one so utterly desolate, 

But some heart, although unknown, 

Beats responsive to his own.” 

All unconscious of the events of such vital importance to him which 
were transpiring, the stranger, whom the hospital authorities had chris- 
tened Jack, — w r as slowly recovering from the head-bruises he had sus- 
tained, as well as the exposure to bitter cold he had experienced. He 
had struggled desperately to recall the past, but it was quite useless; — 
The past was completely blotted out, shrouded in dense darkness, through 
which no ray of light pierced. 

When he awoke from the stupor which bound him, the first face he 
saw was Jil-bett’s. He wondered vaguely who this tall slip of a girl was, 
with southern richness of coloring in the warm white and deep rose of 
her complexion; — the dense black of her abundant hair — red lips, and 
wonderful dark eyes, half veiled by the longest and darkest of curling 
lashes. 

He was still more puzzled to see tears come to the wonderful dark 
eyes as they met his; — the little hand, soft and warm, trembled as it lay 
for a moment on his forehead. She came again in the afternoon. “Are 
you, — Jil-bett?” he asked. They had told him about her that day — that 
he owed his life to her, and how she had come and nursed him through 
his illness. She nodded, blushing hotly under his earnest gaze. “They 
tell me I am in Arabia,” he said, “I am trying to think — who I am — 
but — I am in a fog; — I cannot remember.” 

She had taken a seat by his couch, and was regarding him earnestly. 
“Don’t try to remember; some day it will all come back to you with a 
rush; — that is what the doctor says,” soothed Jil-bett — and “Jack” — 
was obliged to follow her suggestion. “You will be fine, and fit for work 
by the beginning of next week,” the doctor announced, and Jil-bett urged 
him to try pearl-fishing, — after the assurance the doctor would pass him. 
Much to her delight, Jack consented. 


31 


“The next time I see you, will be when you have donned your diving- 
suit,” she said, as she held out her hand to him at parting. “Now that 
you are practically well, there will be no need to come here again.” 

She could never have told him that she had been forbidden to set 
foot in the hospital again, — She left happy beyond words that he was not 
to vanish out of her life. As a pearl-diver, she would see him each day; 
— her thoughts went no further than that. 

During the week that followed, Jil-bett’s face haunted Jack; — he 
looked forward with pleasurable anticipation to the time he should see 
her again. He felt grateful to her beyond words. 

Jil-bett was thankful that the Arab was away, on government busi- 
ness, he had stated, — and would not return for a fortnight or so. Had 
he been there, Jack would have found it well nigh impossible to secure 
the work. At day-break on the morning Jack started in with his new 
life-work, the steamer Bolivar had just been sighted in the dim distance. 
Two men stood on deck; — the first-mate, and Staples. “It is a wonderful 
thing to see the sun rise in this atmosphere,” remarked Staples, sweeping 
the horizon with his marine glass. 

“And quite as wonderful, sir, to see the pearl divers commence their 
work; there are the guns booming this moment, — that’s the signal for 
going down; — You are just near enough to get a fine view through your 
glasses,” returned the mate. 

Staples watched intently. It was indeed a most wonderful sight — 
and an uncommon one; — the scores of fearless divers in their bulky 
diver’s dress, their brass trimmings flashing in the sun, as they were 
lowered by rope and pulley, down into the depths of the briny deep, — 
their baskets strapped to their sides. 

Staples was deeply impressed; — it seemed to him an enchanted place 
of golden dreams. He had never imagined far off Arabia, anything like 
this. The costumes of the natives, as the boat neared the wharf, com- 
manded his absorbed attention. Loose white cotton drawers, short thin 
yellow shirts, jackets caught in at the waist by the never lacking red sash. 
They wore close skull caps. Sandals were on their feet. They moved 
about with an alert step, and a graceful, swaying movement of their 
graceful bodies. They were mostly dark, with dark close beards, and 
piercing black eyes; — their countenances were more pleasing than other- 
wise. 

At the far end of the wharf, the plantation negroes were busying 
v/ith bags of coffee, piled high, awaiting shipment. Others were still 
unloading the long line of mules, by whom it had been conveyed there, 
the men showed great agility and amazing strength in tossing the heavy 
bags from one to another, as though they were scarcely more than 
feather-weights, — The only clothing of this, element, being a cloth 
wrapped about the loins. 

“Do you think I will be able to find any one here who speaks the 
English language?” asked Staples of the mate, as he was about to dis- 
embark. 


32 


“A decade of years ago, I would have answered It is doubtful; — 
Now, I say — you will have little trouble about it; See they have schools, 
libraries, government houses, and the like. There is, now that I recall 
it, — an English settlement at the farther end of Katar; there is a gov- 
ernment hospital there, — devoted to the divers; — their calling is so 
hazardous. No language save English, is permitted therein.” — 

The next instant he caught Staples’ arm, and, pointing to a woman 
who stood on the wharf, looking out upon the water, said “She is an 
English woman; — make your enquiries of her. I think her name is — 
Mudge.” 

A moment later Staples was standing before her. Lifting his hat 
he inquired if she was Mrs. Mudge. He was not prepared to see her 
draw back from him in absolute terror, — cowering as though he had 
struck her a sudden blow. 

He made haste to allay her alarm, explaining, the mate had pointed 
her out from the deck of the steamer — as an English speaking person 
who could very likely inform him concerning an elderly man who was 
supposed to live, in Katar — Daniel Bannock, by trade, a lapidary. 

The woman’s face cleared; her composure returned at once. “Oh 
yes, she could tell him all about the Bannocks; no one knew the old lapi- 
dary and his grand-daughter Jil-bett, better than she.” 

At this juncture they were joined by a man who looked in dismay 
from one to the other. 

“This is my husband, sir,” she announced to Staples, and to the man, 
she said hurriedly: — “The stranger is not in search of us, — he is inquir- 
ing for the Bannocks.” 

“Yes, yes,” responded the man. “What is it he would know?” 

“If the old man is still at his trade, cutting precious stones,” said the 
woman, “and I’m telling him — yes, when he finds work to do.” 

“Surely he can find work, if any one can. They are few and far be- 
tween who are so skillful,” remarked Staples. 

“Right you are sir,” returned the man, rubbing his hands together, 
pleased at this fulsome compliment to his old neighbor. 

His wife, as usual, lost her prudence when old Bannock was discussed. 

“Well, he wouldn’t find work lacking, if it were not for his habit — ” 

Her husband shook his fist menacingly at her behind Staples’ back. 
It was his turn to shut Mrs. Mudge off — regarding the disclosure she was 
about to make, taking the words glibly out of her mouth. He noticed 
the stranger was leaning forward anxiously, intensely interested. 

“Women-folk make a lot out o’ nothin’,” declared Mr. Mudge, 
“Habit, — indeed! When a man’s old, why shouldn’t he smoke his pipe all 
day long in the sunshine — without women ‘fastenin’ on him that he’s — 
lazy! Huh! restin’ isn’t laziness, — Am I right, sir?” 

Staples nodded, the man’s explanation of Bannock’s — habit, — had 
stilled the uneasiness he was experiencing. 

Turning to his wife, Mudge remarked: — “No doubt this ’ere gent is 
from some great newspaper, an’ has dropped off here to hear the old 
man spin some of his wonderful yarns about the sea; Am I right, sir?” 


33 


“I’m not telling tales out of school,” he answered, but he led the 
inquisitive Mudge to believe he thought him clever at guessing. 

“You’ll find his place at the further end of the road,” directed Mrs. 
Mudge. “First — is the place where the government officials are housed 
— the next, long, square building is the hospital; — further on is the 
tavern where the English-speaking divers put up, and right next to it — 
is the adobe place of the Bannocks. We live — ” 

Staples waited to hear no more, raising his hat again, he turned 
abruptly away, striking into the path pointed out; — his swinging stride 
soon carried him out of their sight. 

He had no difficulty in locating Daniel Bannock’s home. The old 
man sat fast asleep on the door-step. His pipe had fallen from his 
hand, lying in pieces at his feet. 

As Staples stood before him, regarding him curiously, he saw with 
astonishment, that, although he was fast asleep, undoubtedly, — his eyes 
were wide open, staring straight ahead. Age, in this climate, must pro- 
duce such an unusual condition, he concluded. 

While he pondered as to whether he should awaken the old man, or 
wait patiently for him to drift back from the land of dreams, — Bannock, 
as though sensing another’s presence, slowly wakened. 

He passed his hands over his eyes jerkily, as though not quite sure 
whether or no, — his vision was not playing him a trick. 

Staples advanced, saying: “I think I have the pleasure of addressing 
Mr. Bannock, the well known lapidaryist” he began. 

The old man rose totteringly to his feet, staring at the stranger, 
drawing his right hand slowly over his forehead, as though to brush the 
cobwebs from his brain, and sight. 

It was not until Staples had spoken a second time, that he collected 
his dazed, scattered senses. 

“Yes, I am Daniel Bannock; what do you want of me!” he asked 
abruptly. 

Staples sat down on the doorstep, uninvited, beside him, as he re- 
sumed his seat, leaning over, picking up the broken pieces of the clay 
pipe — regarding them ruefully. 

Slowly he explained the business which had brought him from the 
other side of the world — to him. 

When he exhibited the almost priceless ruby, the years seemed to 
suddenly fall from the old man, and he appeared to be once again, Ban- 
nock, the great lapidary, whose skill and fame, had been world-wide. 
The blood surged up into the pallid, wasted cheeks; — the dull old eyes 
glowed once again with fires very like the spark of youth. 

He touched the splendid ruby with a tenderness that was like a caress. 
Looking at him, Staples thought of the application: — old wine in new 
bottles, — and awaited his decision with the utmost impatience, — and 
anxiety, — as to whether he would undertake the engraving of the word 
— MIZPAH — upon its shimmering surface. 

He agreed with Staples that it would be a most hazardous undertak- 
ing. To the old man, so versed in the worth of precious gems, it seemed 


34 


an unpardonable folly; — There would be ninety-nine chances of failure 
against one of success. 

Even in the face of this discouragement, Staples urged, assuring him 
that in undertaking the work, his fortune for life would be assured — 
whether success, or failure resulted. 

Removing a belt he wore, he showed the old man, a thousand dollars 
in gold, which he was prepared to pay down at the commencement of 
the work, and a draft for four thousand additional, on the Bank of 
England — when it was completed. 

“You mean — should it prove — successful?” queried Bannock. 

Staples nodded, exclaiming: — “How can you refuse it, manl” He 
put both hands on the old lapidary’s shoulders, looking, eagerly, earnestly 
down into the withered old face whose features were working convul- 
sively, indicating the mental struggle he was undergoing. 

“This may be the last time fortune may knock at your door,” added 
Staples, — as a last argument. 

With a strength such as he had not known for years, Daniel Ban- 
nock rose to his feet — stretched out his hands, saying: — “All you say is 
true; I have no right to turn aside the wonderful good fortune which 
has come to me — in my old age, — at a time when the most expert in my 
craft — are considered — down — and — out. For my little Jil-bett’s sake, 
— she’s my grand-daughter, sir, — I will undertake the task, and accom- 
plish it — if any man living can. See! — I still have — strong nerves.” 

As he spoke, he bared his right arm; Staples noted that the trembling 
he had been worrying over, had quite disappeared. It was as though 
the old lapidary had taken a long draught from the fountain of youth. 

“I need not warn you to keep the transaction a secret, and the ruby 
carefully concealed,” as he placed Bannock’s receipt for the jewel, and the 
money, carefully away in his belt. It was agreed that the work should 
be completed within three weeks, — four at latest. Staples announced he 
would return for it, in person. 

The transaction settled, Daniel Bannock entertained him until it was 
quite time for him to return to the boat, with his wonderful experiences 
— when he was the most expert pearl-diver of his time. Taking him 
within, he showed him a monster stuffed devil-fish that occupied the entire 
side of the wall, — measuring as it did fifteen feet or more — in width. 
Staples listened with interest to the story of his encounter with it. He 
was young then with the strength of a lion. One day, when he had nearly 
filled his basket with the shells, he became suddenly aware of a huge black 
cloud which blotted out the sunshine; — Looking up, he found himself 
confronted with this, one of the most dreaded monsters of the deep sea. 

There was never a more exciting, blood-curdling story than Bannock’s 
recital of the terrific battle which ensued. The monster had marked him 
as its victim. Had he not had on the diving-dress, which they had fairly 
forced him to use, and experiment with, there would have been recorded 
another tragedy in the dark abyss of the ocean’s depth. 

He had fought desperately with his knife, and was just collapsing 
when he was hoisted up, — the monster still clinging to him. 


35 


In the encounter, one of his knees had been so badly crushed, — that 
his diving days, from that hour, — were past. 

Almost as interesting, were his descriptions of hair-breadth experi- 
ences he had passed through in guarding jewels that had been entrusted 
to him. 

Staples knew he had no need to warn him to be still more careful of 
the magnificent ruby entrusted to him. 

He was just in time to catch the same out-going steamer, which had 
loaded up and was about to draw her gang-plank up, as he reached 
the wharf. She steamed down the bay, and as the twilight fell — entered 
the ocean. By the time a young moon had fixed itself in the night-sky, — 
and the stars had come forth, glinting the waves with a thousand arrowy 
sparkles, the Arabian coast had faded from view. 

Bannock was pacing to and fro for the last hour, wondering what 
was detaining Jil-bett, on this night of all others, when he had such 
wonderful news to unfold to her. He pondered long and earnestly 
whether he should go in search of her — or — wait her coming. 

All unconscious of the anxiety of her grandfather on this particular 
night of all others, Jil-bett had stopped at the Mudge’s on her way home, 
to change the dress she had worn that day to the hospital — a borrowed 
one from Mrs. Mudge, and to try on one, that good woman was making 
for her, to replace the native dress she had always been satisfied with — 
until — now. 

“I want to have clothes like the wives and daughters of the officials 
wear,” she confided to Mrs. Mudge; “a pretty white cotton, with nice 
flounces edged in red, — and stockings, and slippers, instead of bare feet 
and limbs.” She heard the girl speak so much, and so enthusiastically of 
the handsome stranger at the hospital, — she readily guessed he was the 
cause of Jil-bett’s longing to look like the girls in the English colony — 
and pleasing in his eyes, when he should awaken to consciousness — and 
behold her. 

Mrs. Mudge’s garb became Jil-bett well, the one she was making for 
her was prettier by far. She would have it completed by the morrow. 

Jil-bett wended her way home, wondering what her grandfather 
would say when he saw the pretty white dress, and heard of her deter- 
mination to dress “Like the daughters of the officials, who had their 
clothes sent to them from Paris — and London.” 

She knew she would be upbraided for staying out so late. As she 
reached the door, she was startled by the sound of a sob from within — 
She entered hurriedly surprising her grandfather, who was on his knees 
before the lapidary bench, weeping as men seldom weep in a life-time. 

In the greatest of alarm she ran to his side, crying: — “Oh, grand- 
father — I am here! — Your own Jil-bett! — Tell me, are you ill?” 

She was almost stricken dumb at sight of the face he turned toward 
her; — It was changed; — radiant, with a crimson flush overspreading it. 
He sprung to his feet with an alacrity that almost took her breath away. 
Catching her in his arms he strained her to his breast, sobbing out 
brokenly, and in intense excitement: — “Oh, Jil-bett! This is a great — 


36 


great day for us! Jil-bett, my little girl, something so wonderful has 
happened that I will find it difficult to make you understand, or — believe 
it. A miracle has taken place; — we are no longer poor and — starving! 
— We are rich! — Among the best off in Katar, tonight.” 

“It will be for you, little Jil-bett. They say the old cannot come 
— back, — do what they could in their prime; — that their usefulness is 
over ! — But that is not true ; — I have — come — back, child, — raised you in 
a single hour from poverty — to — riches! I, the old man they have 
laughed, and scoffed at — ” 

“Stop, grandfather!” commanded Jil-bett, disentangling herself with 
difficulty from his clinging arms. — “God pity us both! I see what has 
happened. The dope has driven you mad — at last!” 

“The dope!” echoed Bannock, “I — had quite forgotten it, Jil-bett; — 
I shall take some now, then I shall be more able to tell you the wonderful 
thing that has happened!” 

“The wonderful dreams you have had,” she corrected with a bitter 
sigh, dashing the tears from her eyes, “Come, grandfather, forego the 
dope, and I will make you some strong, fine coffee; — So strong it will stir 
the blood in your veins as though it were wine; listen to me dear grand- 
father — ” 

He jerked away from her detaining hand angrily, pulling out the 
drawer of the bench, pointed to the pile of shining gold. 

“That does not look much like a dream, does it girl! you see it is 
a glorious reality! Touch it, Jil-bett! Why are you staring at it in that 
way !” 

Jil-bett caught him by the arm, looking down in horror into his face. 

“Where did you get it” she whispered hoarsely. “How did you come 
by it! — you MUST answer me!” — very stern was her shrill voice. 

“I did not steal it, Jil-bett.” 

She shook his arm in great affright. “I am asking you how it came 
to be here ! — who does it belong to ! Oh, grandfather, I implore you to 
keep nothing back from me!” 

She caught her breath hard, moaning: — “We are indeed very poor; 
There were times when there was not enough for the two of us — to eat, 
— and I have gone to bed supperless, hungry, — but I never let you know. 
Through it all, — we have been — HONEST!” 

The old man fell back in a paroxism of hysterical laughter, inter- 
mingled with sobs which he was powerless to control. 

Jil-bett sank down on her knees beside him, weeping the bitterest tears 
she had ever shed in all her young life. A thousand disturbing thoughts 
flashed through her mind, and through them all, was the one fearful 
q uer y ; — How did her grandfather come by that heap of gold! 

She sprung from her knees confronting her grandfather sternly: — 

“You must return that money to its rightful owner” she said de- 
cisively. “I will work all my life for you; — give you every penny I earn; 
work as I have never worked before from dawn ’till dark — but you must 
promise me to give back that money. If you refuse, I will go forth from 


37 


your roof — never to return ! — I can never break bread — with — a — 
thief!” 

The last word stung Daniel Bannock to the heart’s core. 

“Help me to control myself, Jil-bett, — and I will tell you the whole 
story. But for the gold, — and what I have hidden in my pocket, here, 
I too would believe it to be the hallucination of a disordered brain — a 
— dream — such as comes to me — when — when — ” 

He looked at her piteously, unable to finish the sentence. 

She understood — but too well. 

By degrees the old man regained his composure, unfolding to her the 
wonderful happening of the day, showing her the contract, and the mag- 
nificent stone. 

To Jil-bett it seemed, indeed, like a miracle; Many times she went 
over the contract, which set forth a thousand dollars in gold had been 
paid down, — and the balance — a fortune — which he was to receive — 
when the work was completed. The wonderful beauty of the ruby fairly 
took her breath away as she gazed at it in rapt wonder. 

She threw her arms about her grandfather’s neck, and they wept 
together from sheer gladness. Then together the old man and the young 
girl knelt, and prayed with hearts full of thanks to God. 

They consulted long and earnestly over whether the word — MIZ- 
PAH — could be engraven, and so faintly it could not be discernable to 
the human eye, — upon the ruby, without dire results to the jewel. 

“It will take a very steady hand, grandfather,” said Jil-bett. 

They looked for a moment earnestly into each other’s face. 

“You mean — I shall fail — if my hand trembles?” he asked. 

She bowed her head in assent. 

“I have gone so far on the road, child, — I — must — have a little of 
the powder; But I pledge you that you shall deal it out to me, — and say 
— how much. I could not undertake the work at all, if my hand and my 
nerves got beyond me.” 

She was sensible enough to realize the truth of his words; Her one 
thought for months had been — whether or not he could break off ulti- 
mately, if he could but be induced to lessen the amount of dope by 
degrees. This was a great point gained, that he would allow her to be 
the custodian of it — dealing it out to him. 

Both agreed as to the care with which they must guard their great 
secret; — also, that it was wisest and best for Jil-bett to keep on with her 
pearl-diving, that no one might suspect their change of fortune. 

This she was most anxious to continue. A new element had crept into 
the attraction going down into the ocean’s depths had always had for 
her: — On the morrow Jack was to take up the occupation, and she would 
be thrown into contact with him continuously. 

As they were parting, at a late hour that night, Jil-bett was dismayed, 
and greatly worried at hearing her grandfather remark: pompously: — 
“I shall take an extra amount tonight — to — celebrate.” 

Jil-bett vetoed this vigorously, and, after hours of arguing and plead- 
ing by turns, — both fell fast asleep in their chairs, dead tired. 


38 


To Jil-bett’s amazement, her grandfather was astir before her the 
next morning. It did not take her long to discover the reason; — One 
look at his face showed her that he had helped himself most liberally to 
the product of the poppy. 

She immediately took possession of the remainder. Although he 
watched most cunningly to see where she would secrete it, she succeeded 
in finding a place where she was sure he would never dream of searching 
for it: — behind the stuffed body of the devil-monster. 

That morning she went to her pearl-fishing with a song on her lips, 
and a lightness of heart such as she had never known before. 

Jack was waiting for her. He had promised that she should be with 
him, the first time he went down into the ocean. 

Jil-bett was soon in her diving dress, and together they were lowered 
to the depths of five fathoms. She was accustomed to go into much 
deeper water, — but this was usually the depths for a new beginner at 
diving. Together they were lowered to the ocean’s bed. 

Jil-bett showed him where, and how to pick the silver-edged oysters 
which were the most likely to yield the coveted treasures. 

Suddenly she noted Jack was becoming unsteady on his feet; it 
dawned upon her that he had been down longer than a novice should 
remain; she gave the signal to be hoisted up quickly — but not an instant 
too soon — he had lunged forward, and fell face downward at her feet. 
Both were hauled up hurriedly. It seemed an endless length of time to 
her until his helmet was removed. 

She heard them whispering, one to another “they guessed it was all 
over with Jack.” He was not of the kind who should have taken to 
pearl-fishing, with its dangers, for a living.” 

Jil-bett’s anguish as she listened, was most keen — for, was it not she, 
who had urged upon him this hazardous work? 

It was due to her energetic treatment that he was restored so quickly. 

He made light of the occurrence, and would have gone down again, then 
and there, to show them he was game, had not the officials refused to 
permit it, annoyed at the foolhardiness of new-beginners. 

This experience made Jack the more determined to conquer whatever 
difficulties might be in the way, and become, what Jil-bett had so earn- 
estly desired — an expert diver. 

During the fortnight that followed, he showed the officials, and the 
rest of the divers, as well, what pluck and will-power could accomplish — 
much to Jil-bett’s delight. 

Jack had secured lodgings at the hotel next door to her home, thus 
it happened that they walked homeward together, after the day’s work 
was ended. She showed him the fragrant trees, and the innermost 
branches where the birds built their nests, and the nooks and crannies 
of the great rocks, against which many a vessel had been lashed to 
pieces in the fury of the awful storms that swept the Kater coast. 

He always bade her a kindly good-night, as he left her at her own 
door. He did not know that she stood on the door-step, and watched 
him out of sight. It was a sweet joy to her to sit down on the step in 


39 


the gathering twilight, and go over, in her thoughts, all that Jack had 
said. Once, in helping her over the rocks, his hand had, for a few 
moments clasped hers. She never quite realized she had a heart, until 
at that moment, it fluttered like a caged bird in her bosom. 

He was kind, gentle — different from every one she had ever seen. 

Life had been very sweet since he had come into it. 

He would be a great diver, and perhaps, they would always work side 
by side — that was as far as her day-dreams carried her. 

How Jil-bett longed to confide to him the wonderful thing that was 
transpiring in her home; but the solemn pledge she and her grandfather 
had exchanged, bound her to silence. 

“They are lovers,” the divers told each other as they watched them 
strolling homeward through the woodland together day after day — 
adding ominously: “What will Ben-Ali say — and do — when he returns 
and discovers it.” Not one of them dared voice his opinion. These 
were busy days for the old lapidary. He had gone at his task with an 
earnestness that surprised even Jil-bett. All day he worked over it, and 
often far into the night. His old hand worked at a snail’s pace, but, 
oh, so carefully and sure. He did not know that Jil-bett was wearying 
heaven with her prayers for his success. 

As he handled the old tools, the fire of other days seemed to come 
back to him. 

As Jil-bett had promised, she dealt out the powders to him which he 
craved, in minute grains, coaxing, pleading, weeping when the old man 
would beg on his knees for more — more ! 

The work on the ruby was progressing slowly, but surely. 

Jil-bett would sit beside him for hours, watching breathlessly, her 
heart in her eyes, as the feeble old hand held the ruby. 

But one more letter remained to be traced — the last one. “I will 
finish it before I go to bed tonight — aye, I shall work upon it until 
broad day light,” he announced. Jil-bett kissed him and hurried to her 
work; — Her last words being: — “that he must take a little rest, before 
starting in on it.” 

Jack, and one of the officials were engaged in earnest conversation 
as she approached. Jack always had a pleasant smile, and a hand-shake 
for her. To her, that meant — a happy moment, and a happy time, looking 
forward to the stroll together later on. 

“I shall have something to tell you, as we walk home together”, he 
whispered, as she was turning away. Those words flitted through her 
thoughts all that day. Never had her nimble fingers worked more rapidly 
in filling her baskets. 


40 


PART VI. 

Does Fate Select Your Mate? 

“The sails are hoisted, and away we go, 

Like a leaf in the north wind whirled, 

Across the continent, over the sea, 

To the other side of the world.” 

It takes so little to warm the heart, and brighten the life of youth. 

Jil-bett’s heart beat fast, and the color came and went on her cheeks, 
as she waited in the path for Jack to join her. 

He was not long in coming; — he smiled when he saw her, thinking 
what a pretty picture she made — with the back-ground of rich green 
leaves, and flowering date-trees. 

“If you are not in a hurry home, we will take the path by the water’s 
edge,” he suggested, — to which Jil-bett readily acquiesced. Any path 
while walking home by his side, seemed all too short. 

They strolled along, he seeming more preoccupied than usual, — but 
even this silence was filled with contentment for her. 

“Let us sit here for a little while, Jil-bett, where we can watch the sun- 
light on the water; — To me it is the pleasantest spot in all Katar,” he 
said. 

Her eyes sought his. “It was here, — just where we are standing now, 
that I came across you on that morning — not so long since, but which 
seems ages ago ; — I do not know how it happened that I took the longest 
path, by the water’s edge, that day. It must have been — fate.” 

“I don’t know as the life you saved will ever amount to much; — 
There are times when I wish it had drifted out then and there. It is such 
a strain on my heart, — this mighty striving to lift the dark cloud which 
has settled like a pall on my memory, — and find myself again.” 

“Are you not content here?” she asked quickly, earnestly. 

He shook his head. His answer seemed to change the whole world 
for her. 

“No, the restlessness which has taken possession of me, impels me 
to move onward. I have earned sufficient to take me elsewhere. I am 


41 


going away from here, Jil-bett, on the steamer which will leave here 
tomorrow or next day at latest.” 

The words struck her as a sudden, icy blast chills a tender flower — 
an awful stillness, like the hush of death came over her; — the color left 
her face; — If he had been looking at her, he would have seen big tears 
gather in the dark, dilated eyes, roll down her pallid cheeks, and splash 
upon the little hands clutched tightly together. 

“It did not matter to me whither the steamer was bound; — I would 
have sailed on her; — This one goes to America; — well, just as well there, 
as any other place. I shall go on, and on, from one place to another, — 
and some day, — my memory, as to who I am, — and from whence I 
came, — may return to me. I have had another long talk with the doc- 
tor; — that was his prediction; — he was certain of it.” 

A lump rose in Jil-bett’s throat; — she could make no answer. All in 
an instant the sunshine seemed to have been blotted out, and the coldness 
of the grave to have settled over the world. 

“I shall often think of you, Jil-bett; wondering if you are happy — and 
if life is going on well with you. Ben-Ali, the Arab, has come back; — He 
discharged me, this morning, — not knowing I was going anyway; — They 
say you are to marry him — ” 

“No! no! no!” broke the girl, vehemently, “never ! never!” 

“It seems to be the common fate of all, — to marry, some day,” he 
ruminated, his gaze afar out over the water. 

“Will — YOU — marry — some — day?” faltered Jil-bett, abashed at 
her temerity the next instant for giving utterance to the thought that was 
consuming her. 

He shook his head. “Marriage is for those who meet, and, after 
close companionship, find that they cannot do without each other.” 

“You will do without — me. And I — I — Good-bye !” she whispered 
abruptly, hurriedly rising to her feet. The next instant she was lost to 
sight by a turn in the road. 

Neither the words, or the actions of the girl told him that she had 
more than a friendly feeling for him. Beyond his gratitude to her for 
saving his life, and her careful nursing after, through his illness, his 
thoughts had been very little of Jil-bett. 

With lagging step the girl entered her home and went about her duty 
of preparing supper. Something had gone out of her life, it would never 
be the same. She wondered how she could endure pearl-fishing, — and 
Katar, — after he had gone away. 

All that evening, while her grandfather worked industriously at his 
bench, Jil-bett sat near him, her elbows on her knees, her face in her 
hands. She sat so still he was sure she had fallen asleep ; — but no, — her 
eyes were open — but they were not upon him, or his work. 

At length, he ordered her to go to bed; she did not wish to go, pre- 
ferring to sit with him, — but the old man was obdurate, — “I must be 
alone, I say” he declared irritably. 

Jil-bett knew Ben-Ali had returned that morning: — she wondered if 
her grandfather had seen him, and by any possible chance secured any 


42 


of the powders from him; At length, she concluded not, and reluctantly 
left him to finish his great work — alone, — as he so urgently desired. She 
threw herself down on her bed, but not to sleep, though it was long past 
the midnight hour. 

“Poor grandfather ! — I shall be glad when this work is over, the strain 
is too much for him” she sighed. Parting the curtains ever so slightly, 
she peered out. 

Instead of being at his bench, he stood in the center of the room, 
gazing intently at her corner. As she looked, spell-bound, the blood 
seemed to curdle in her veins. The light from the swinging lamp re- 
vealed a partially filled glass which he was just about to raise to his lips. 
The devil-fish, hanging side-wise on the wall, instead of straight, told its 
own story: — He had searched unceasingly until he had discovered the 
place she had secreted the powders, and was about to help himself 
copiously. 

God help him, in this moment when temptation had over-ruled his 
better judgement — in the moment when success was almost assured, — 
aye ! — so nearly won. 

In a moment the unhappy girl cleared the space which divided them, 
with one blow striking the glass with its contents from his hand. 

“You’re too late!” he screamed with a maniacal laugh; “I’ve — al- 
ready had over half of it! — I meant to finish it.” 

She was beyond tears when she saw the state her grandfather was in. 
Remonstrance was useless now; — She tried another plan; — to attempt to 
soothe him, and coax him to sleep it off. This he refused to do. 

“I feel like a fighting-cock now,” he declared. “I got what I needed 
— to make the few final strokes.” 

Jil-bett saw all too plainly, that, although his words were brave, his 
hands were twitching cruelly. At last — after he had promised her so 
solemnly that he would soon retire, — Jil-bett, against her better judge- 
ment, had trusted to his word — and flung herself down on her cot, — 
believing he would soon follow her example. She had not intended to 
sleep, — but tired nature had asserted herself, and she was soon lost in a 
world of troubled dreams? 

Her grandfather had become aware of this, by listening to her soft, 
steady breathing. 

“Now to finish my work!” he exclaimed, taking the ruby from his 
pocket, placing it carefully in position, on the bench, — drawing his stool 
closer. It was an oppressively warm night, or, perhaps it was his nerves, 
strung to their highest tension, — that caused the unusual moisture to 
gather on his forehead, and to blurr the powerful magnifying glasses 
over his eyes, and moisten his hands. 

With an impatient frown he raised the shade he had pulled down so 
carefully over the window, and throw up the sash a foot or more. 

The gust of wind set the devil-fish on the wall awry, and at the same 
time scattered a small heap of grayish powder on the floor behind the 
old man. 


43 


A certain sense of uneasiness agitated him. He wished most heartily 
that he had not sent Jil-bett off to bed. 

In a quavering voice he called her name ; but the sound did not carry 
to the girl’s sleep-closed ears — she did not hear, nor answer. With 
faltering steps he crossed the room to her couch, parted the curtains, 
and looked down upon her. 

“Jil-bett is so tired, I must not waken her,” he muttered, — turning 
away with a smothered sigh. 

But a few moments before, Ben-Ali, hurrying down the deserted 
street saw with amazement, the unusual sight of a light, at that hour, in 
the home of old Bannock. With cautious tread, he drew close to the 
window — The sight that met his gaze, rooted him to the spot. 

The old lapidary was sitting before his bench, holding in his shaking 
right hand — a ruby of such dimension, and sheen, the Arab knew fairly 
well, at a glance, the enormous worth of it. He came to the instantan- 
eous conclusion it was a government job; His eyes traveled further to 
the drawer the old man had at that instant opened, — and he beheld the 
pile of gold which he proceeded to put in a sack. 

He could well understand how the old lapidary came to have the ruby 
in his possession, but he could not figure out how he came by the bag of gold; 
— he was in a quandary over it. 

The Arab watched, with glistening eyes, the old man put the ruby 
down on the bench, turn, and walk with unsteady step to Jil-bett’s cur- 
tained recess; During the moment he stood looking down upon her, decid- 
ing whether it was best to awaken her, — or — let her sleep, — a long, 
sinewy arm was thrust through the open window, — a hand clutched the 
ruby, and the bag; — then, as silently, and swiftly as he had appeared, he 
fled down the street, and into the shadows of the night. 

With slow steps, the old lapidary turned about; — the door was 
slightly ajar, from the wind. As he was closing it, he recognized Jack 
walking past; — He was quite sure he had been standing before his door. 
He thought ill of men who prowled about at night, instead of being in 
their beds — unless they had important work to do. 

As he turned into the room, he beheld the coveted powder scattered 
about the floor. Suppressing the cry of delight that rose to his lip by a 
great effort, he gathered the whole of it up with alacrity, and succeeded 
in draining a full half of the glass, ere Jil-bett discovered the situation. 

He would not heed the girl’s pleading to rest a little while. 

“I never was more fine and fit for work, I tell you!” he retorted 
angrily. “Go to bed again, or sit up, just as you like; — I’m going to finish 
my work on the ruby tonight! — and win the fortune that will be the 
reward for it.” 

He walked quickly to his bench; — his shaking hand passed lightly 
over it — to the spot he had lain down the jewel. 

“God in heaven! — it is not here!” he shrieked. He opened the 
drawer of the bench. “And the gold! — that’s gone too!” 

His cries brought Jil-bett quickly to his side. 


44 


“Oh, grandfather! — have you ruined — the ruby?” she gasped, vainly 
endeavoring to still his piercing, piteous cries. 

“They’re gone! — the ruby, and the gold! — some one has taken them 
but a moment since!” he sobbed clinging to her, in his weakness and 
agonized cries. “Oh, Jil-bett, I had them both in my hands — Did you 
take them — to frighten your poor old grandfather?” 

She shook her head, declaring: — “They must surely be here; The 
ruby has rolled to the floor, — and you have put away the gold, as you 
promised me you would do — and — you have forgotten — where.” 

He shook his old, white, grief-bowed head, still sobbing violently. 

Jil-bett lost no time in searching every nook and cranny of the place; 
— her grandfather was quite right; — they had disappeared as though the 
earth had suddenly opened and swallowed them. 

“What am I to do, Jil-bett,” he cried, clinging to her in mortal terror 
— “The agent will soon return for the ruby! — If I cannot produce it, — I 
will be placed under arrest — and later, thrown into prison. Do you hear, 
Jil-bett! — I will end my days — in a prison! — That will drive me mad! 
Save me! Oh, save me, Jil-bett!” 

She was almost overcome with horror, and grief, at the turn affairs 
had taken. She firmly believed that during the time she had been so 
unfortunate as to sleep, — under the influence of the deplorable powders, 
her grandfather had crept out of the house and hidden the treasures; 
and, ah, heaven! — so securely they would never be likely to be found. 
He would never be able to recall — anything about them. 

Suddenly he turned to her, gripping her arm, his face ashen white. 
“I know who has robbed us, Jil-bett,” he cried. “It’s that Jack! — the 
scamp you nursed from death back to life, and health! — Like a serpent 
he has stung the hand that tended him.” Gaspingly, he told her what he 
had seen but a few moments before. 

“Stop, grandfather! I shall never believe such a thing of him! — 
He is all that is noble, and good!” 

Daniel Bannock drew back, looking hard at her; There was an ex- 
pression on his face not pleasant to see. “I can do nothing about it — 
until — tomorrow” he said harshly. “When the day breaks, I will cause 
his arrest — they will throw him into a cell, force him to return to me the 
ruby and the gold. He does not know that he is suspected, — or he would 
get away from here quickly.” 

“We will talk the matter over — tomorrow, in the meantime, you must 
take a little rest.” She saw that, even in the face of the intense excite- 
ment he was laboring under, fagged out nature was forcing his eyelids 
down. Bending his arms upon the empty bench, and his head upon them, 
he cried like a child; — then grew motionless. 

Jil-bett was wrong, when she thought sleep had come to him. The 
air of the room stifled her; she felt she must go out to the door-step to 
sit and think; — or, perhaps it would be best to go to the old well, back 
of the house, — no one would see her there, or know of the bitter grief 
she was trying so hard to conceal — and — conquer. 


45 


Jil-bett felt sure her grandfather was the pitiable culprit. If all the 
world accused Jack, she would believe him guiltless. 

She knew past all doubting, her grandfather would cause his arrest 
at day-break, and he would languish in prison while his life lasted — be- 
cause he could neither restore the treasures — nor — prove himself inno- 
cent. Her distress over this was far greater than the loss of the fortune 
that was so nearly in their grasp. 

She decided that when the agent returned, she would tell him the 
truth, begging for mercy for her grandfather, — pledging all she could 
earn in the years to come — except barely enough to hold soul and body 
together, — to pay back the debt. She meant to pray day and night; — 
she had a conviction that heaven, in its mercy, would direct her, some 
day, where to find the treasures. 

Then, there surged over her heart the longing to save the man whom 
she felt sure — was innocent. 

With the accusation, all Katar would find out the secret they had 
guarded so zealously. — But what would that matter, — now. 

Then, in affright, it occurred to her, that the incensed mob popula- 
tion, might clamor to deal out summary punishment — without stopping 
to give the law a chance to take its course. 

It was an easy matter to start a riot in Katar. 

Jil-bett felt that she must do her best to save Jack from what she felt 
sure was her grandfather’s pitiful error. When the sun rose on the 
morrow, he was to go away — instead, he would be thrust into prison. 
The anguish of the injustice of it, caused Jil-bett to abandon herself to 
the bitterest tears. 

“It is clearly my duty to see that this grave wrong is not carried out 
— against an innocent man,” she decided. “I must warn him of his danger 
at once; — not a moment is to be lost.” 

The Diver’s Rest, next door, which housed scores of divers, was never 
closed — the men came and went as they chose. 

With the prayer on her lips that she was doing right, in thus warning, 
and saving him, Jil-bett lost no time in reaching the tavern. The long 
tier of doors on the upper gallery, were mostly closed, — a few stood 
ajar; — this indicated whether the occupant was in or out. 

Jil-bett did not know which room was Jack’s. Her plan, was, to 
send who-ever came in, — in search of him, — with the message : — He was 
wanted down in the grounds, — on a very urgent matter. 

She stood within the deep shadow of one of the large pillars, for 
fully half an hour; — during that time, no one entered the place. 

She was just about to give up her quest when Jack came swinging 
briskly through the arched door-way. 

Ere she could get her scattered wits together to call his name, he 
had gone up the stairs, two at a time, disappearing within the room di- 
rectly at the head of the stairs. 

Swiftly Jil-bett mounted the stairs after him, pausing on the threshold, 
calling his name in a low, timid, hesitating voice. 


46 


He did not hear, he had crossed the room, flinging off his coat as he 
walked, — pausing at the window. 

He was unusually tired; — Even after the long sleep-inducing walk he 
had taken, he felt no inclination, however, to go to bed. He was ponder- 
ing whether to go out again, or remain in, — when he was aware of a 
light step by his side; — turning quickly, to his great astonishment, he 
beheld Jil-bett standing there. 

“I — want to talk with you,” she faltered. “It is of the utmost im- 
portance, or I would not be here — at this hour, sir. Tomorrow — would 
be — too late.” 

‘Jil-bett — !” he exclaimed, in dismay, “you should not have come here; 
7 whatever you have to say to me is not so important that you should 
jeopardize your good name — like this.” 

A sob fell from her lips. “It won’t take but a few moments to tell 
you, — then I will go.” 

‘I will take you to your home now, — we can sit on your door-step, — 
anywhere but here — while you tell me.” 

“Grandfather might see, that would be the worst thing that could 
happen,” she answered in great alarm — “Enraged, he might not wait until 
morning. Let me tell you here, and now. — You — must! Oh, Mr. Jack! — 
you must!” She was not to be persuaded from her resolve. He was 
obliged to listen to what she had come to him to say. 

He knew this artless young girl had not the slightest realization of 
the position in which she had placed herself. 

In a few words Jil-bett told him of her grandfather being employed 
on a very valuable work, demanding the greatest skill of a lapidary; — a 
goodly sum of money had been paid in advance. 

He had worked late to try to complete it; — looking out of the win- 
dow, he had observed him (Jack) hurrying away from before the door 
— when he turned back to his bench, — the important work he had been 
engaged on — together with the money — had disappeared. Between her 
sobs, she told him that her grandfather suspected him — of the robbery, 
and only awaited day-light — to have him arrested. 

“Jil-bett,” he said earnestly, placing both hands on her shoulder. “I 
am entirely innocent; — it would grieve me to the heart’s core, to have 
you, above all others, believe me capable of such a dastardly deed. I 
admit I was out; — and, — I paused before your door, seeing a light at 
that hour of the night. At first I thought either you, or your grand- 
father might be ill, — and that I should proffer my assistance. Then, 
realizing the hour, I concluded it would not be best to make my presence 
known, and had just started on when your grandfather opened the door, 
and peered out. I knew he must have seen me; — he slammed the door 
to angrily; — Again I tell you, Aye, I swear to you, Jil-bett that I am 
not guilty. Do you believe me?” 

“Yes, as I believe in God in heaven; — otherwise I would not be here 
to warn, — and save you; — and urge you to go away quickly, while the 
opportunity is yours.” 


47 


To this, Jack stoutly objected, declaring he would remain, and face 
any charges that might be brought against him, and prove his innocence. 

Jil-bett’s grief and tears touched him. She knelt at his feet praying 
him to go; that his bravery would mean but fool-hardiness in the face of 
the danger of languishing for years in a Katar dungeon. 

At length he was forced to see the good sense of her reasoning — he 
was innocent of this thing which was to be trumped up against him, — 
why change his plans to fight out the charge — suffering arrest, and 
months perhaps, — for another’s crime. 

Jil-bett renewed her pleadings, urging him to promise her that he 
would go at once — not waiting for day-break, declaring that her peace 
of mind rested on it. Her tears, and distress conquered. 

“If it will indeed, make you happier, I will do as you wish, Jil-bett — ” 
he said gravely, — taking both of her cold little hands in his. 

Bending down, he reverently kissed her forehead, telling her he could 
not find words to express his gratitude to her for the great proof of her 
friendship which she had exhibited for him. 

It was but a kindly action on his part, his heart was so full of thank- 
fulness, for this service she had just rendered him; — how much he owed 
her! — How could he refuse anything she might ask of him — being by no 
means unforgetful that he owed his very life to her. 

The touch of his lips on her forehead, was the first caress Jil-bett 
had ever known, save those her grandfather had fitfully bestowed upon 
her. Her hands trembled, a light that was almost a glory broke over 
her face. 


IT WAS THE LULL THAT COMES BEFORE THE STORM. 

Jil-bett would not have been so happy had she but known what was 
taking place in her own home at that moment. 

When she had slipped quietly out of the house — into the rear of the 
grounds — to give vent to her grief alone, — unseen, — her grandfather, 
who had not fallen asleep, as she supposed, crept to the door peering out 
after her. He was intensely angered that she had taken so deeply to 
heart, the fact that he accused Jack of the theft, and that he intended to 
cause his arrest, on the morrow. She had espoused his cause vehemently. 
“This stranger has come between Jil-bett and me,” he muttered, clench- 
ing his hands tightly together. 

He was startled by the sound of his name by a whispered voice close 
beside him; turning quickly, he found himself face to face with the Arab. 
“I have something for you, Bannock,” he whispered. “Seeing the light, 
I crept in with it — while Jil-bett sleeps. Ah! what is wrong?” he queried, 
as the old man sunk down on the nearest seat trembling violently. 

“I need it now, as never before,” whispered Bannock, wiping off with 
shaking hand, the great drops of clammy perspiration that stood out in 
beads on his forehead. He quaffed eagerly, at a single draught the 
contents of the glass Ben-Ali quickly prepared for .him. 


48 


Its action stimulated him; — under its influence, he told the Arab of 
the great loss he had just sustained, — and whom he suspected. 

Again the Arab prepared another, and still stronger potion — which 
his unfortunate victim drained to the dregs. 

It seemed like molten fire running through his veins, and leaping 
through his old heart. 

“Now you are fit to — fight!” suggested Ben-Ali, adding: — “You 
know so much, I wonder that you could have been so blind as not to see 
what was going on under your nose; — The fellow, Jack, stole your 
treasures — by Jil-bett’s aid. He is leaving here at day-break; he has 
already secured passage on the steamer that sails for America on the 
morrow. He will take your little girl with him. Marry! Pouf, no! — 

“You say she is not in the house; — where else could she be — at this 
hour, — but with him. One trait about the Arabs is, they honor their 
women — especially the maidens; any man who fails in this, dies like a 
dog at the hands of the populace; — Are Englishmen, like you, Bannock, 
less keen to protect your young girls?” 

He had worked the old man adroitly up to a frenzied pitch; When 
he saw him grasp from the wall an old, rusty fire-lock, and rush from 
the house, he knew Jack’s life would pay the penalty of it — on sight, — 
if he encountered him. The Arab had no idea that his words were true, 
when he suggested Jil-bett was with Jack, — on the contrary, he believed 
the girl had sought refuge with the Mudges for the night, as she had 
done many times before, when her grandfather was in one of his fits of 
ungovernable rage? With the cunning of his race, he hurried quickly 
from the place! He proposed to be as far away as he could get — if a 
tragedy took place — that he might not be thought to be implicated in it 
in any way. 

Crazed to the pitch of frenzy, the old lapidary crept into the Diver’s 
Rest, and made his way up the stairs. He knew which was Jack’s room, 
— he was slightly puzzled that the door was ajar. 

Peering through the aperture he saw them — Jack, and his little girl 
Jil-bett. Every nerve in his body quivered; — the blood leaped like mad 
through his veins; as he watched with bated breath, a mighty rage 
possessing him, he saw Jack bend suddenly down and kiss the girl — his 
hands clasping hers. 

With an imprecation so terrible that those upon whose startled ears 
it fell, never forgot it, — the old man flung open the door, advancing like 
an enraged lion — the weapon he carried — covering Jack’s heart. 

“Grandfather!” gasped Jil-bett, clinging in terror to her companion. 
She had seen her grandfather in many rages, but never, oh, never in a 
fury so terrible to behold — as this. 

With a swift movement Jack endeavored to thrust the girl behind 
him, out of harm’s way, — but, instead, she flung herself desperately be- 
fore him, to shield him, — even though her own young life should pay 
for it. 


49 


The old man’s weapon had not been lowered for a single instant, — 
and — he stood between them — and the door. 

Jack knew it would mean death to one, perhaps both of them if he 
made the slightest out-cry, or moved a single step forward. 

“Thief! — Despoiler of a young girl’s heart! — you have come to the 
end of your rope!” shrieked Bannock. “I — I — shouldn’t give you a 
chance — but I know what it means — when I see her clinging to you so ! 
— Ha! — the honor — of my little — Jil-bett — is at — stake!” 

“You’re going to marry her. Do you hear! — You’re going to marry 
her — Promise you will make her your wife within the hour — or — she 
does not leave this room alive. Decide! — When I count five, — if it’s — 
no— I fire!” 

As they looked into the madman’s livid face — the blood-red glare of 
his eyes, — frothing lips, and twitching muscles, and heard the voice — 
which sounded like nothing human, — both realized full well, that nothing 
but Jack’s promise, and given quickly, would save the life of poor little 
Jil-bett. She was incapable of speech or action. 

Jack revered her highly; — but neither the thought of love, or mar- 
riage in connection with her, had ever occurred to him. The decision had 
been thrust upon him without an instant’s warning, — He realized, if he 
refused, — poor Jil-bett — who had come there — to save him — would fall 
at his feet, — a victim to the maniac’s mad fury. 

“One — Two — Three — Four — ” 

“I will marry your grand-daughter,” announced Jack. 

That was the last Jil-bett knew. Her strained nerves could bear no 
more, she slipped down in a heap between the man she loved, — and her 
furious, dope-maddened grandfather. 

To Jil-bett the hour that followed seemed like a dazed dream; — the 
presence of Mrs. Mudge, — the minister from the English colony, — the 
group of wondering divers, who had been summoned from their beds to 
witness the ceremony, — and the solemn words, as she stood by Jack’s 
side — that made her — his — wife. 

His face was white, and his expression stern. It did not occur to 
him to offer the shrinking girl beside him the slightest caress. 

“Now he will tell us what he did with the — ruby, and the gold,” her 
grandfather whispered in her ear. 

Those were his last words; — he sunk back in his chair; The over-dose 
— had proved fatal. One glance at the stark face, dilated eyes, — and 
Jack knew the girl was all alone in the world — but for him. 

Instead of sailing at day-break, the captain of the Dolphin, bound for 
New York, announced, that owing to an impending hurricane, she would 
not put out for a day or so later. 

Jack had made arrangements some few days previous, for a berth for 
himself with one of the vessel’s crew. He was obliged now, to secure 
accommodations for Jil-bett with the stewardess, in another part of the 
boat. 


50 


He felt rather relieved at this arrangement, for it would give him 
time to consider what he should do now. Roaming about the world with 
only himself to look out for, was one thing; — to be encumbered with a 
wife who had been thrust upon him, — was quite another matter — and — a 
handicap. He felt very sorry for poor Jil-bett. 

Since the hour they had been united, his eyes had been opened to 
what had not dawned upon him before; — that the girl loved him pas- 
sionately. Together with this discovery, came another very disturbing 
fear — and — worry. Could it be possible that the girl he had deemed so 
artless, — was a party to a deliberate scheme to entrap him? The more 
he cogitated over the matter, the more uneasy he became regarding it. 

It had been settled that, while Jack took up his quarters on the boat, 
— Jil-bett should remain ashore with the Mudges, up to the last hour. 

“Is this the way all brides begin their honeymoons?” Jil-bett timidly 
inquired of Mrs. Mudge, when they were alone together, — and there 
was a suspicion of tears in the wondering dark eyes. 

“Bless you, no, child” was the answer “but, — everything depends on 
circumstances.” 

The girl’s next question surprised Mrs. Mudge even more. 

“Do you think — Jack really cares for me?” 

“Of course, Jil-bett, or he would not have married you, my dear. He 
was not forced to offer you his heart, and hand, you know; — marrying 
goes by favor.” 

The girl’s face paled; — she sat staring at Mrs. Mudge with wide 
open eyes. She knew what her friend did not know, — and her young 
heart was troubled. 

It was a cause of wonderment to the Mudges, that Jil-bett’s bride- 
groom did not spend the few evenings before the boat sailed with her, on 
shore, instead of by himself, on the steamer. They agreed that the girl 
must be pitifully lonely, or she would not have gone off by herself each 
evening, after the moon rose, — to sit at the place she had first seen Jack, 
— lying insensible in the grass. They did not guess that the girl wept 
bitter tears there. 

On the second evening, Jil-bett had bent her steps thither, she had 
but barely reached the place, ere the sound of cautious steps, and subdued 
voices fell upon her ear. She recognized, as they drew nearer Ben-Ali, 
and the chleuh youth, whom he had sent to Morocco for, — to attend him. 

Jil-bett drew back into the shadow of a clump of trees with beating 
heart; she still had a great fear of the Arab. To her great terror they 
stopped abruptly in the path, so near her she could have put out her 
hand and touched them. Both were devoid of garments, save that worn 
about the loins; — She knew by that, they intended going into the water. 
Ben-Ali carried an oblong package in his hand, which she recognized as 
one of the small, but heavy zinc boxes the government officers used in 
shipping valuables to a foreign market. 

“List,” said Ben-Ali. “You will note with great attention where I 
sink this box; Should anything unexpected happen to me, dive at night, 


51 


— secure it, — and make your way into the heart of the desert — once 
there, you know what disposition to make of its contents.” 

The youth nodded, answering in his native tongue, which Jil-bett did 
not understand. 

They passed on to the water’s edge, Jil-bett following, impelled by a 
desire she could not control, — keeping well in the shadows of the trees. 
At this point was an unused pier, at the end of which was an apparatus 
for lowering the divers. The depths of the water was less than five 
fathoms. As all of the pearl oysters had been gathered from this point, 
it had recently been abandoned. The divers were now working farther 
out. The structure was soon to be removed, to be set up elsewhere. 

Jil-bett saw them dive from the far end of the pier. They were 
scarcely two minutes under water, reappearing, they swam ashore, scurry- 
ing away in an opposite direction. 

She wondered long and earnestly over what she had just witnessed. 
What did the zinc box contain, which the Arab had deposited with so 
much secrecy. Through the long hours of the night she wondered over 
it, for she was unable to sleep. Suddenly, a startling idea came to her — 
Ben-Ali had been prowling about the night of the robbery. As she had 
drawn to the curtain of her window, by her cot, — she had seen him go 
slowly by, his keen eyes watching the place. 

Could it be — he was the thief, — and that box contained her poor old 
grandfather’s gold, and the ruby the agent might come for at any time 
now? 

Like an inspiration the determination came to Jil-bett to investigate 
the matter as soon as day-light should come. Her diving suit had not 
yet been turned in, she was glad of that. 

Jil-bett was not the only one who had witnessed this unusual pro- 
cedure. Unable to find composure, Jack had paced the deck, the marine 
glass, which the first mate had loaned him, in his hand. 

He was taking a long, last look at the place which he hoped never 
again to see after the morrow. 

As his powerful glass swept the shore, he saw the two forms, one of 
them carrying a box, — creep stealthily out to the edge of the pier, — and 
dive down, — reappearing WITHOUT THE BOX. He recognized the 
man who carried it, as Ben-Ali. 

As he watched them disappear into the shadows of the night he too, 
fell to wondering what that packet contained. 

Suddenly he struck his hands together, his breath coming in hot gasps. 
Could it be — the contents of that box had anything to do with the theft 
which Jil-bett’s grandfather had bewailed so bitterly — and of which he 
was accused ! 

“Tomorrow, quite as soon as it is light, I shall make it my business 
to investigate the contents of that sunken box,” he decided. 


52 


PART VII. 

Of All The Loads That Weight Down The Heart, Unreturned 
Love, — Is The Heaviest To Struggle With. 

Jack from the deck of the steamer, and Jil-bett on shore watched 
the dawn of the new day break, with keen interest. 

Jil-bett had signified her intention of taking a last dive, and had 
coaxed Mr. Mudge into consenting to attend the ropes for her. This 
was his employment for the government, — he could not find it in his 
heart to refuse Jil-bett the last request she would probably ever make 
of him. 

The preceding night he had tossed restlessly on his pillow — after a 
sudden awakening from a troublesome dream. His wife was decidedly 
angry when he insisted upon telling it to her — in the dead o’ th’ night. 

“Go to sleep, fool-man!” she answered irritably, “I want to get a 
little sleep, even though you — don’t.” 

“But, Mary, I never knew it to fail,” he persisted. “Whenever I’ve 
dreamed of th’ devil coming up through th’ waves, some disaster has 
been sure to follow on th’ heels of it.” 

“I want to go to sleep, I say! — to th’ devil with you and your 
devil-dreams!” shrilled his wife. Whereupon she stopped her ears up 
with her thumbs, hearing no more. 

He did not have to be called the next morning; His wife marveled 
that she did not have to go through the usual tussle to get him on his 
feet today. She did not have to keep an eye on the breakfast under- 
way, — and the other on him, to see that he did not sneak back to bed. 
He was ready quite as soon as Jil-bett was. 

“It would be some luck if you picked up a pearl,” laughed Mudge 
as he adjusted her helmet. 

“Who knows but what I may find something far more valuable,” 
she answered so earnestly he laughed long and heartily, quite believing 
this vague hope was the outcome of her desire to go down — for the last 
time. The sun was just rising, as he lowered Jil-bett, in her cumber- 
some suit, down into the water, — receiving her signal a moment later that 
she had touched bottom. 


53 


Down there, with the sun’s rays lighting up every nook and cranny, 
she felt she must soon locate the object she was in search of. 

Close by, was the wreck of a steamer that had been wrecked on the 
shoals; — When she had gone down in that vicinity in other days, she 
had resolutely turned her back on the ghastly skeletons entangled in the 
wreckage, swaying to and fro with every stir of the waves, — the denizens 
of the deep gliding about them. 

Jil-bett had never ventured past them without a lump rising in her 
throat, and a tear to her eyes, thinking: — No doubt they had been happy 
sailors, who had lost their lives at the helm. In her heart there had 
always come the silent prayer to God to comfort those who had loved 
them, — and watched, and waited in vain for their coming. 

She had no time for speculation on this particular morning; moments 
were precious, and rushing swift winged past her. She had marked the 
spot well, — her experienced eye soon discerned the box she sought. 
Small as it was, its heft seemed tenfold greater, from the pressure of 
the water. She was barely able to lift it. 

“Heaven grant that it may contain what I so earnestly hope for,” 
was her thought, as she faced about to give the signal to Mudge to be 
drawn up. 

In that instant a shadow fell between her and the sunshine; a strong 
arm was thrust out, grasping the box, to which she clung with despera- 
tion, — as she felt it being wrenched from her. 

A heavy blow was dealt her as she struggled to give the signal to 
be drawn up. 

As her antagonist lunged forward to deal a second blow, his foot 
tripped, and he plunged headlong on the ocean’s bed. The force of the 
violent fall loosened his helmet — it swung awry. 

A dense vapor, and shower of bubbles concealed the writhing figure 
from her gaze. The faintness of death swept over Jil-bett; — In that 
awful moment of horror a danger equally as great menaced her; — she 
beheld a long, narrow shadow gliding swiftly toward her. Was it an 
octopus, — or — a shark! 

Her paralyzed fingers refused to give the signal to be drawn up. 

Until that moment she had quite forgotten that a school of huge 
sharks had been sighted just beyond the fisheries. 

Jil-bett tried to utter a prayer, — to cry out to Jack. The words died 
on her lips, her thoughts became confused. She dropped to her knees. 
Unconsciousness which precedes death locked her senses as she fell 
across the body of her perishing foe. 

Jil-bett opened her eyes later, to find Mrs. Mudge bending over her, 
in the Mudge home. 

“Was it a horrible dream?” she gasped in affright, a full realization 
of what was happening during that last moment of consciousness, re- 
curring to her. 

Mrs. Mudge stroked her hair back from her hot forehead, answer- 
ing reassuringly: — “The Arab, Ben-Ali, would have made short work 
of you down there, — if it had not been for your — Jack; — 


54 


“You mustn’t blame poor Mudge, Jil-bett; — when Ben-Ali appeared, 
signifying his intention of going down, — never dreaming of anything 
amiss, — and he being his boss, at that, — he thought it quite all right to 
lower him. When Jack appeared, looking so worried when Mudge told 
him that you and the Arab were down, — he believed him to be simply 
jealous. A moment or so later when he saw the violent twitching of 
the ropes, he realized something was terribly wrong down there. He 
drew up Jack, who held you clasped close to him. 

“A few gasping words explained all to Mudge, who had torn off 
both of your helmets in the quickest time possible. 

“Jack had been just in time to witness the attack, during which, the 
Arab’s helmet became loosened. In his mad haste to get down, he 
would scarcely wait for Mudge to adjust it properly; — That caused him 
to meet the fate he brought on himself. 

“Jack was nearly done for, too. 

“Of course Mudge got to the Arab’s assistance quickly, — but it was 
useless. His helmet was swinging to and fro half-way off. Your Jack 
left word you were to go on ship-board — by noon, — the boat sails then.” 
“I will be ready to join him,” declared Jil-bett, though she felt extremely 
weak. 

“When Jack brought you up, you had this clutched tightly in 
your arms,” said Mrs. Mudge, placing the box beside her, looking curi- 
ously at her for an explanation. 

“I — went down for that, it had been placed there — for safekeeping.” 

“Oh, I understand now. You have always been afraid your grand- 
father would get the little trinkets you treasured; you were wise in hiding 
them, child.” 

Jil-bett did not undeceive her. She had decided to show the contents 
of the box to Jack, telling him her reason for wishing to gain — posses- 
sion of it. If her hopes proved groundless, and the contents was really 
the property of the Arab, — Jack would know what to do about it. The 
Mudges went down to the dock with her to see her off. 

When Jil-bett saw Jack, she ran to him, flinging her arms about him, 
sobbing as though her heart would break. “I owe my life to you — my — 
husband!” she whispered brokenly. 

“Pshaw! — just paid back an old debt,” he returned, unclasping her 
clinging arms. “Don’t make so much of a fuss over it.” 

“But how happened you to be there in the moment of my grave — 
danger, dear?” she persisted. 

“I will tell you that later on,” he returned, adding, as he found her 
a seat in a secluded nook on deck: “Stay here until I come for you.” 

With that he disappeared. Shortly after, amidst the usual bustle and 
commotion, the gang-plank was drawn up, and the Dolphin moved 
majestically away from the dock. 

The Mudges waved good-bye to Jil-bett ’till the steamer became but 
a black speck in the distance. 

The hours crept on, still Jack, did not return to her. Had he been 
left behind! — or — had he — forgotten her? She grew alarmed. 


55 


Glancing down, she beheld the black box at her feet. Jack had not 
given her the opportunity to tell him about it. In the excitement of being 
with him once again, she had quite forgotten it. 

She was aroused from her thoughts by the stewardess who had come 
out on deck in search of her to go in to dinner; — the second and last gong 
had rang long since. Jil-bett was sitting in the self-same place, — where 
Jack had placed her, looking wistfully out over the black waste of water. 
The sun had sunk in the western sky; dusk had fallen; one by one the 
stars had come out, lighting the vast dome above. The moon had risen, 
making a long path of silver across the waters to the far off horizon’s 
edge. 

As the girl would not leave the spot where she had been told to 
remain, the stewardess, through pity, brought her out a tempting tray of 
food. She was pleased to see she ate heartily. 

“You were hungry, dear child,” she said. “Your brother should not 
neglect you in this fashion.” 

“Jack is not my brother — he is — my husband!” answered Jil-bett, 
turning her large dark eyes upon the woman — with hurt pride. “We 
were married two days ago.” 

“Well! well! — I should never have thought it!” returned the stew- 
ardess. “He flung himself down in a seat aft — went sound asleep at once 
— and is there yet. He should have had it on his mind that he had a 
bride aboard. That’s commencing married life the wrong way.” 

“He — he was very — tired,” defended Jil-bett. “I would be content 
to sit here until morning, if he could but sleep, and rest. Please do not 
waken him.” The stewardess made no reply, walking away. 

At that moment Jack was seen approaching hurriedly much perturbed. 

“Forgive me, Jil-bett,” he said, sitting down beside her. “I fell 
asleep. I am sorry. You must come inside. I see you have been cared 
for.” His eyes followed the retreating form with the tray. “It shall 
never happen again.” 

“Do not feel sorry, I am glad you rested — dear.” 

He looked at the girl; how gentle and forgiving she was. He felt 
impatient with himself that his heart did not warm more toward her. 

He was not insensible to the fact that she was exceedingly pretty in 
the clothes Mrs. Mudge had fashioned for her going away gown — yet, 
he sighed at the thought, that, hereafter, go where he would she must be 
taken along. Marriage bound them. 

Sitting there, he appeased her curiosity, as to what had taken him 
into the water; — seeing the Arab, the night before deposit the box there, 
and the overwhelming desire to learn its contents. The hope in his heart 
that it might have something to do with her grandfather’s loss. 

“We both had the same thought!” cried Jil-bett eagerly. 

At that instant he caught sight of the box at her feet. 

“No doubt you have satisfied yourself of its contents ere this.” 

“No, I waited until we could look it over — together, dear. Like you 
I could not banish the hope — it might contain what my grandfather lost.” 


56 


“Why, it is very heavy for so small a box,” he remarked surprised. 
It was fastened by a lead staple, wedged in. It took Jack some time 
to work it out, even with the aid of a quoit he picked up on deck. 

As the lid was flung back, Jil-bett saw, by the white, bright light of the 
moon, it contained exactly what she had suspected. The gold that had 
meant so much to her poor old grandfather. 

She sobbed aloud, burying her face on Jack’s shoulder. 

“Gold!” he exclaimed, “and much of it! Why Jil-bett, this certainly 
represents the saving of a life-time!” 

Her heart was too full to tell him all — just at that moment. 

“There is something else here,” he exclaimed, lifting a small ball 
wrapped in many folds of cotton, and tied with a very strong cord. 

“That was what my grandfather was working on when the theft 
occurred,” she said, taking it from his hands unwinding it carefully. 
“This was left with my grandfather by an agent who brought it from 
afar, — because he was known to be a very clever lapidary.” 

As Jil-bett spoke, she held the magnificent ruby up before his eyes. 
Jack stared at it intently, brushing his hand across his forehead. The 
sight of it held him rooted to the spot — spellbound. 

She looked away from him, out over the water as she went on: “My 
grandfather was to carve a word upon it; — and it was to be so faintly 
traced it could not be seen save by the aid of a powerful magnifying glass. 
That word was — MIZPAH — which means : “God be with thee, and me, 
until we meet again.” Is not that a beautiful sentiment, Jack?” 

With an awful cry, and eyes dilated, he leaped to his feet, snatching 
the ruby from her hand. Jil-bett was terrified. He looked like one who 
had suddenly become insane — violently mad. 

In an instant of time, memory had returned to him. This was the 
ruby he had left with Liffany’s. He recalled it all — his hurried call on 
the girl he loved — she, who was so soon to become his bride — the bach- 
elor-dinner, that night — and starting for home in his car — Thorne at the 
wheel — talking of the great sea-plane that was to leave at day-break 
— for the other side of the world. 

All — All — was as clear as noon day to him now — he had been shang- 
haied — taken off on that sea-plane — and dropped — with the life nearly out 
of his body — on the far off Arabian coast. 

His blood-shot eyes traveled to Jil-bett. 

She saw — that, all in an instant, his memory had come back to him. 
She could not tell whether it was intense agony, or rage that was consum- 
ing him? His face was livid; — the veins on his forehead stood out like 
whip-cords, while great beads of perspiration rolled down his face like 
drops of heavy rain. 

“I have been here, lost to the world for months! Oh, my God! 
What of Clairene, my darling!” he groaned. “My bride so shortly to 
be!” 

He smote his breast with his clenched hands. In all her young life 
Jil-bett had never beheld such a torrent of wild grief. She listened awe 
struck. 


57 


“Jack!” she whispered, coming close to him, attempting to draw 
herself within the shelter of his arms — “Who is — Clairene?” 

He recoiled from her as though she had struck him a sudden blow. 
Like a shock, the realization had come to him — he — who loved Clairene, 
the beautiful girl, who was to have become his bride — the girl whom he 
loved better than his own life — was parted from him — forever — by this 
girl who held him firmly in the clutch of the marriage tie. 

Jil-bett was sorely frightened. Years passing over his head could 
not have changed him more than those few minutes had done. All in an 
instant his bonny brown hair had turned snow-white before her terrified 
gaze, while his face became more ashen. His eyes more blood-shot. 

“Who is Clairene, Jack,” she repeated, gently, a great fear awaken- 
ing in her heart that she was some one — he had — loved. 

He turned upon her fiercely. “God have pity on me,” he groaned. 
“You have come between us — separating me from my love — as surely as 
though one of us lay in the grave. I was to have married her — I — ” 

Jil-bett stood as cold, white, and still as a marble statue before him, 
looking up into his anguished face. 

“You say I have come between you — and a beautiful girl — you — love, 
and was to have married,” she whispered in a strained voice from which 
all the gladness had died out. 

“It is so,” he answered drearily, — despairingly. 

“And she loves you — as dearly — as you love her?” she queried. 

He bent his head in assent, too wretched for words. 

“Did the ruby bring back the memory of her to you?” she questioned 
striving to keep back her tears. 

He told Jil-bett briefly, the story of it. That he was to have given 
it to Clairene as a bridal gift. 

That it was he who had commissioned the New York firm to have 
the word MIZPAH, engraven on the ruby, it having been a whim of his 
sweetheart’s — and that he was to search the world over until a com- 
petent person was found to undertake the work. The money in the box 
at her feet he had paid as an advance payment. 

His words ended in a groan, bitter in its despair. 

“We are on an American steamer — bound for the place that is your 
home — the girl you love — is there?” questioned Jil-bett in a faint voice. 

He bowed his head again in assent. 

“What will you do — what will become of me, when you get there?” 
she whispered in the same tone, scarcely audible over the wash of the 
sea. 

“I — don’t know; I have not had time to think it out. Rest assured of 
one thing, you shall never want; I am a man of means. I shall give you 
— cash down — ” 

“Stop !” commanded the girl, in a clear, ringing voice. “You insult me ! 
I would die — before I would touch one penny of your money. I — I did 
not marry you for wealth; I believed you very poor. Your money — 
would be to me — a torture, — a burden, — and a regret. This is how little 
I want it!” As she uttered the words, she caught up the box flinging 


58 


its contents in his face. The yellow gold fell in a shower about him, 
much of it rolling off the deck into the sea. Like a storm driven swallow, 
she wheeled about, dashing into the cabin. 

He made no attempt either to detain, or follow her. Never was a 
man more wretched. His thoughts turned quickly to — Clairene. He 
wondered what had happened during all these months his memory had 
been locked — and the past — a blank. What of Clairene! 

He felt that not a moment was to be lost in letting them know he 
was enroute for home — anxious to explain to their entire satisfaction, — 
his absence — and silence. 

Hurriedly he picked up the gold pieces — as many as he could find. 
Thrusting them into his pockets, he went quickly in search of the captain, 
to send them a wireless message. 

His first thought was to send it to Clairene; — but, after a little medi- 
tation, he concluded that owing to existing circumstances, it would be best 
to send it to her father. 

“Could a wireless be sent to Colonel Vail, whose business address 
was New York City?” 

“There’s a storm coming up, we can try it however,” answered the 
Captain, taking the written slip from the other’s hand. He was surprised 
— and much puzzled when the payment in gold, twice the sum required, 
was handed him. 

The message was duly sent, and Jack (as he proposed to call himself 
to the end of the voyage) — breathed freer; He was too perturbed to go 
within, pacing the deck to and fro, regardless of the hours that dragged 
their slow lengths by. The sound of the ship’s bell, tolling the midnight 
hour, fell upon deaf ears. All he thought of was Clairene — and if some 
way could not be found out of the tangle which fate, destiny, — call it 
what one would, — had woven about him. 

So engrossed was he with his own thoughts, he did not notice there 
was great confusion on board, and that the wind was blowing a hurricane 
on the other side of the boat, causing it to rock like an egg-shell. 

It was not until the steamer chair, into which he had dropped, bury- 
ing his face in his hands — was blown like a straw across the deck, that 
he realized something was wrong. Then he saw passengers and crew 
surging in affright to the deck. 

The Captain, who was in their midst, was doing his best to raise his 
voice above the din — beseeching all to be calm — even in the face of the 
peril which menaced them. The waves rose mountain high, — threatening 
to capsize the boat each instant; — then, what the Captain was in deadly 
fear of — took place, with the tipping of the boat on its beam end, — the 
fires of the furnaces burst their bonds, and were scattered about the 
engine room. The smell of smoke, and the crackling flames gave 
warning that the direst of all calamities — a fire at sea faced them. 
“There are sufficient life-boats for all!” he added in a voice that rose 
like a bugle over the din. 

One of the smoke-stacks fell with a terrible crash. The glare of the 
leaping flames over the water, the crackling tongues of fire bursting 


59 


through heavy clouds of thick, black smoke, shrieks of horrors, groans, 
moans, — and cries of despair filled the air. 

Mingled with these, were the hoarse shouts of the sailors as they 
lowered the boats, and over all, the Captain’s clarion voice giving orders 
as he brought his rifle to bear upon the lowered boats: — 

“Women— And— Children— FIRST 1” 

Wives were torn from their husband’s arms; — mothers from their 
sons, and thrust into the rapidly filling boats. 

Midst the awful din, and horror of confusion, Jack suddenly remem- 
bered — Jil-bett. 

Pushing his way right and left through the surging mass of terrified 
human beings he searched hurriedly for her. She was not on any of 
the decks, or in any of the cabins; Dodging the angry sailors who ordered 
him back, he pushed on. The mad flames scorched his hair, — his clothes, 
— but he hurried on, calling upon her name. There was no response. 

As he groped his way aft, through the belching clouds of smoke, he 
caught the outline of a slender figure standing by the rail. He made 
his way to her with the utmost difficulty, realizing it was she. “Jil-bett,” 
he cried, seizing her arm, attempting to drag her by main force from 
the rail to which she clung with a tenacity which resisted his utmost 
strength. “The last boat is being lowered!” 

She turned her face away from him, taking a firmer hold of the deck- 
rail, as she wrenched herself free from his grasp. 

“Go! — save yourself! — never mind me — ” she commanded. 

“Are you mad, Jil-bett” he cried hoarsely, raising his voice above the 
awful din, and attempting to reason with her, “moments are precious; 
You shall not refuse this opportunity to save your life!” 

The red glare fell full upon the face she turned for an instant to 
him, lighting it up with a weird beauty. 

“I do not wish to live — I want to die ; — do not try to save me ! — she 
moaned — “I came between you — and the girl — you love! I shall go 
out of your life with the vessel when she goes down; Don’t stay here! — 
Save yourself, and go back and marry the girl — you love.” 

“The steamer is settling, Jil-bett!” he cried in horror. “Come! — for 
God’s sake — Come!” 

“No, I am going to set you free,” she whispered, more to herself than 
to him. 

He seized her in his arms; to retrace his steps was his object — The 
heart in his bosom fairly stood still, as he saw that a broad pillar of 
fire cut off his retreat. There was not an instant to lose. There was a 
splash; — he had leaped overboard with her, striking out for the nearest 
life-boat. By the greatest effort he reached it with his unconscious 
burden. Exhausted, he was about to sink, when strong hands reached to 
the rescue, and he, and Jil-bett were drawn in the life-boat. 

But not a moment too soon. With a deep, gurgling sound, the burning 
ocean greyhound went down, dragging with her, all that was within the 
radius of suction — down to the bottom of the ocean. 


60 


The occupants of the life-boats thanked God when morning broke 
over a calm sea. They were within the lines of traffic route. 

The great trans-Atlantic steamer City of New York, was the first 
to greet their strained gaze. 

The out-look, had sighted the life-boats some time before. 

As she loomed up nearer, and nearer, mighty prayers of thankfulness 
rent the early morning air — for their deliverance. > 

The work of getting them aboard, was accomplished as speedily as 
possible. When their names were taken, he gave his own; in the excite- 
ment — he quite forgot Jil-bett for the moment. 

The steamer was crowded to capacity, therefore, cots had to be 
improvised for the women from the burned boat — in one of the ladies’ 
cabins; — Like accommodation for the men, in the men’s cabin at the 
far end of the boat. 

Jay’s mind was filled with conflicting thoughts those days and nights 
while the great ocean steamer was speeding fast as steam could carry her 
— to New York! — Great, glorious New York! — the Alpha and Omega 
of his hopes — and dreams. 

He had sent repeatedly to Jil-bett, asking if she were well; if so — 
if he might see her on deck. The answer was always the same: — She 
had entirely recovered from the shock she had undergone; — but there 
was no mention whether he should see her — or not. 

He knew Jil-bett was not like other girls. Perhaps she had the notion 
to dash ashore, the instant the gang-plank was lowered — hiding herself — 
forever, — beyond all possibility of finding her. 

To guard against anything of that kind, he took the precaution — to 
pay well, the two sailors whose duty it was to see that passengers alighted 
in safety, — to stop, and hold Jil-bett, should she attempt to go ashore 
without him. 

On this last night on ship-board, he paced to and fro, doing his best 
to control his conflicting thoughts — and emotions. 

He tried to analyze what Clarene’s attitude toward him would be — 
when he explained all — Then, like a heavy load sliding down, and lying 
on his heart, — what — his — attitude toward the girl who was to have 
become his bride, — should be — in the face of the complication which 
engulfed him. 

Turning his head suddenly, unexpectedly, he saw, in the clear, bright 
moonlight, Jil-bett, standing in the door-way of the cabin, — watching 
him intently. She would have turned, vanishing within, but he was too 
quick for her. With a bound, he was at her side, seized her wrist, draw- 
ing her resolutely out on deck. 

Taking her arm, he conducted her to the farthest end of the deck, 
that their conversation might not be overheard. 

He placed a seat for her, but Jil-bett declined it. 

For some moments they stood together in silence, neither looking at 
the other. Jil-bett’s dark eyes looking wistfully out over the wide sweep 
of moon-spangled waters. “Ten thousand stars were in the sky, ten 
thousand in the sea.” At length he turned toward her. 


61 


“At sun-rise tomorrow, we shall land in New York,” he began. 
“Yes” she answered, with a slight catch in her breath, “and you will 
hasten to the beautiful girl — you love.” 

“That will be impossible, — now.” he said more to himself than her. 

She turned her face toward him; — he saw it was wet with tears. “I 
shall not stand between you — and happiness, Jack,” she said in a low 
voice which quivered piteously, in spite of her efforts at self-control, “I 
intend to set you free.” 

She saw a quick, glad light leap into his eyes, and a flush mount to his 
face. After a moment of deep, hushed silence, he turned to her, asking: 
— “Why would you do this for me! — why!” 

“Because — I love you” she said with child-like simplicity. It did not 
occur to her — not to answer him truthfuly. 

A deep silence followed her words, he did not know what to say 
to her; — he looked at her fixedly. It had not dawned upon him that he 
was so dear to her, that she would consign herself to a life-time of sor- 
row, — that he might — find — happiness. Standing there, looking down 
into her face, over which great tears were falling slowly, he wondered 
how it was possible, she could have given such a great love — unsought. 

Poor litle Jil-bett! he pitied her profoundly; The nobility of the 
girl, the stupendous sacrifice she would make for him — because she 
loved him, — and wanted him to be happy, — though that happiness meant 
— with another, — touched him to the heart’s core. 

Impulsively he took her two little cold, fluttering hands in his. The 
thought swept over him how much more noble she was, — than — he. 
She was willing to make a supreme sacrifice for him; — had he shown 
a desire to make a life sacrifice for her ! She held him bound fast to her 
by the most solemn of ties — marriage! She was his — wife, — he, — her 
husband, who had taken upon himself the solemn vow to cleave unto her, 
— and protect her, — until death should them part. 

Could he allow a timid, loving girl to be more magnanimous than he? 
— his head and heart were in a whirl. 

“I am going in, now; To know that I have been the cause of giving 
you happiness, — will always be a dear thought to me, keeping my heart 
from breaking. When you think of me, poor, unhappy Jil-bett, — try 
to think of me kindly, — and at my best. Would you mind, — would it be 
wrong for me to crave from you — a good-bye kiss? — Remember, I am 
going out of your life — forever.” 

Mechanically he drew her toward him; his arms closed around the 
slender little figure trembling in his close clasp. He bent his head down, 
their lips met; — his, and the poor little bride’s whom he was putting 
away from him that he might be happy with — another; — his poor, noble 
Jil-bett whose love for him was like no other love. 

In that supreme moment, a cabin-boy came in search of him. After 
a loud Ahem! — to warn them of his proximity, he advanced, — “A wire- 
less dispatch for you, sir,” he said, handing him an envelope. 

Jil-bett’s heart grew faint within her. 


62 


Breaking the seal he quickly drew out the slip of paper it contained — 
running his eyes rapidly over its contents. 

“It is from — the girl — you will — marry I” she murmured faintly, — 
piteously, — looking up anxiously into his face. 

He laughed cynically — his lips curling. Then he drew Jil-bett into 
his arms, saying: — softly: — “We will read it together, — dear.” 

He spread it out carefully. Every word was distinctly visible in the 
clear, white moonlight. 

Together their eyes traveled over the few lines: which were as 
follows : — 

“Colonel Vail, — Mr. Edward Thorne, and Mrs. Clairene Thorne, 
wish you a safe journey home.” 

Signed — Colonel Vail.” 

Jil-bett looked up fearfully into his face. She expected to see him 
go fairly mad from the blow which had been dealt him. She had 
grasped the situation at once; — the girl he loved, — the beautiful Clairene, 
had wedded another — in his absence. 

He looked down at Jil-bett, meeting her gaze. He was smiling. 

“This intelligence has by no means broken my heart, nor caused it 
one tumultuous pang. I never realized — until this moment, how com- 
pletely indifferent I am, — to the girl you were so willing to give me 
up to. Your heroic behavior, Jil-bett, caused me to think hard. I did 
not want you to give me up, little wife; — I did not realize until then, 
that my heart, and happiness, were in YOUR keeping.” 

Together they stood in the silvery moonlight, while the steamer 
sped onward to her goal through the star-strewn waters. 

Later, the steamer sent in to the newspapers a list of her passengers. 
Just as the steamer was passing the Statue of Liberty Clairene’s eye 
caught sight of the list; heading it, were: — 

“Jay Marmaduke Smith — and — Wife.” 


THE END. 







BROOKLYN EAGLE PRESS 



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